


Flower on a Cloud

by DarkOwlFeather



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, But in fact they have a lot in common, Canon deaths, Cassunzel compliant, Characters have equivalent in the other fandom, Father-Daughter Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Kind of a retelling of both stories... I guess, Kind of canon compliant until circa chap 20, Kinda Crossover or Fusion, Redemption, Results of a kidnapping, Revolution, Short Chapters, When two fandoms that could have nothing in common merge in one, not sure what's the difference, secondary romantic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 21,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkOwlFeather/pseuds/DarkOwlFeather
Summary: Les Miserables, but make it Tangled. Or is it the other way around? Tangled, but make it Les Miz.Basically an AU where the stories and characters of Les Miz are Tangled are merged.It’s the story of a man, hunted down for peccadilloes, whose journey comes across the path of a young woman who suffers from a very bad parent. Together, they’ll find a way to have a better life, all the while being chased by a tenacious soldier.Now, fill the names of those characters with both fandoms... The stories really are similar in a way...The title comes from the fusion of the Healing Incantation from Tangled, and "Castle on a Cloud" from les Miz.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Dramatis Personae

**Author's Note:**

> Hear ye, brave readers, hear ye!  
> I’m taking you decades, even centuries ago, in an old and forgotten kingdom. Some call it France, some Corona.  
> You’ll follow the life of Jean Valjean, an ex-convict whose life will change utterly when he finds Cosette, a teen kept in a lost tower in the forest…

Hi there! Little chapter of introduction with the Dramatis Personae!

I invite you to read the story, and then come back to this Dramatis Personae afterward if needed, so you won't be spoiled chapters you haven't read yet, as the story tries to follow the two canons: until about chapter 20, there are canon elements in the plot that come straight from both Les Miz and Tangled movies and series.

This story is more like a fusion of the two universes, that means a character from Tangled has an equivalent in Les Miz and vice versa. If not, it's precised here.

This Dramatis Personae is in the order of appearance of the characters, with the chapter's number. The list is already completed, so careful with the spoilers ;-)

The chapters cited are those when the character really starts to appear and/or talks for the first time. For one or two characters, they appeared indirectly or are cited before the chapter I give in this list.

The names I chose to use in this story are those from Les Misérables. At first I tried to use those from Tangled, but [little spoiler incoming] some interpersonal relationships for the main characters are a bit closer to Les Miz than Tangled, so it was easier to write it this way.

Songs from both fandoms will be used, either as songs or prose. I'll precise for each chapter which song(s) were used in the end notes.

** Here's the form for the Dramatis Personae: **

Name in this story (alias or other name if there is one) **|** Equivalent in the other fandom **:** Other information (role, age, inspiration from another character, etc)

Chapter 2 (chapter number from Ao3, chap.1 being this intro):

  * Jean Valjean (24601) (Flynn Rider) | Flynn Rider (Eugene Fitzherbert): Ex-convict, 40-50 years old




Chapter 3:

  * No equivalent in Les Miz – Unnamed burglars brothers | Stabbington brothers



Chapter 4:

  * Javert | Maximus: white grown-up stallion




Chapter 5:

  * Cosette (Euphrasie) | Rapunzel: 18 years old




Chapter 7:

  * Mother (Mrs Thenardier) | Gothel: older than she looks (centuries old?)




Chapter 10:

  * Unnamed people at the pub | Amis de l’ABC: between 15 and 30-35 years old




Chapter 11:

  * Eponine | Cassandra: adoptive daughter of the captain, birth daughter of Mother, Cosette’s age + 4/5 years (Les Miz’s Marius’ role too)

  * No equivalent in Les Miz – Unnamed Captain of the Guards: adoptive father to Eponine, father-like age




Chapter 13:

  * “Bishop” Myriel | Lance Strongbow: about Valjean’s age




Chapter 16:

  * Gavroche | Kiera, Catalina and Varian: less than 15 years old




Chapter 23:

  * No equivalent in Les Miz | King Frederic and Queen Arianna: birth parents of Cosette (Euphrasie)




I wish you a nice reading of the story! It was fun to write!


	2. In which we come to know our first protagonist

Nineteen long years before our story truly begins, there was a man, who lived with his loving family. His family was composed of his mother and younger sister, the latter who was already widowed and waiting for her child.

On a freezing winter day, their food stock went down after a robbery. They already had not a lot to begin with, now they had nothing. So the man, brother and son, and only man left in the family for their dad had passed away long ago, decided to go on the street and see what he could bring to his family to eat, at least for this one day.

He went to the market, saw the butcher, the baker, the tailor, but none wanted to help him in any way. The man was nearly ready to come back home with empty pocket when the hunger went too far. He was near the baker’s stall. When the baker had his head turned to another client, the man took a handful of bread and ran. He ran through streets, crossed the village’s river, but he couldn’t manage to get to his home. The guards had him surrounded way before his home was in sight.

The man, son and brother, was taken prisoner. It was decided that for his crimes, he would have to serve five years in community services. He was put in the forest to cut trees, then in a farm in spring and summer, in a port to repair old military boats, he did all a convict could do. He stayed a long time. He stayed a convict nineteen years. For he tried several times to escape his judgment and flee, he was always brought back to work for another round of years.

Then, after those nineteen years, an officer came to his cell, and let him free, with new papers that presented him as what he was. An ex-convict. An outcast. A thief. On the paper, there was no name. Only a number. His number from jail. A number he bore on his wrist day and night. 24601. The man, Jean Valjean, took the paper with sad eyes and left.

Jean Valjean had entered the jail sobbing and shuddering. He emerged impassive. He had entered in despair. He emerged forged anew. But what was new for a man who had spend half his life in jail? Everything was new.

No one from his youth could have recognized him. He had grown old, and strong of the hard works, yet he knew he was still weak and the years never did his endurance justice. Sure he could do hard works during a little of time, but to ask of him a day-long labor would be the end of him.

On his way, he only had his convict clothes, an old leather bag, a handful of coins earned over the years, that could only pay a one-time meal, and a walking stick he found the first day out of jail.

He went to a town, to the country, but none wanted him, even if it was to only hand him a safe place to sleep or to eat. So, after nineteen years knowing where he would sleep and eat at night, he was in the streets, alone. He tried to come back to his mother, sister and nephews he had to leave nineteen years ago, but when he came to his old town, they were gone, and he found them at the city’s graveyard. The plague five years ago had caught them. And so Valjean was once more on the streets, alone, with only what he wore as belongings, with nowhere to sleep at night, nor to eat.

So, he went to the city hall, to make his presence known on the paper the officer had handed him. The city officials were looking at him as if he was the sickest man on Earth, about to spread a deadly disease all over their precious city. When they had signed the paper, they urged Valjean to leave, and so he did.

He walked for a long time before arriving to the next city, a little countryside town before the capital. The capital was in fact an island one could only come on through a century-old bridge or by boat. The countryside town was a group of few houses and farms, where the animals were walking between the buildings, on what could be called a street.

Valjean found an old abandoned barn, beside the main built area. He slept there some nights, but the people made him know he was not welcomed. So he went to sleep in the nearby forest, for who knows how long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No song used here, though I kind of reused a sentence from Victor Hugo's book (volume 1, book 2, end of chapter 6).
> 
> The story is already fully written. I should be able to update daily (probably sometime in the afternoon, Paris time zone).


	3. In which Valjean is used against his will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few chapters are very short ones. I chose to stick to one action per chapter, so if you feel like it's slow, it's normal ;-)

Valjean stayed in the forest a week before he was disturbed once more. But this time, no one wanted him out. No, he was disturbed by two persons running through the woods.

One had a fabric bag on his back, and it was clinging with the evident sound of metal in it. The other, so similar to the first they were certainly related, had in his hands a sword and a saber. Valjean tried to hide against the tree he had slept near. But the two persons saw him.

They stopped running and came to him. The one with the weapons wore an eye-patch. He made his blades screech together and a shiver went through Valjean’s spine. The other, with red sideburns, opened his bag, and took Valjean’s one. From his, he silently took few objects, shining. They were all made in precious metal. Silver, gold, no doubt on that. There was a set of chandeliers, cutlery, and a crown. The burglar cut the loot in half, and put in Valjean’s bag one of the chandeliers, and the crown. He closed both bags, and with a vicious smile, thrust his knife’s blade in the wood near Valjean’s head to get his attention.

“Don’t you dare loose anything,” he said. “We’ll be back for it.”

Valjean couldn’t answer, and the two thieves resumed their running away. He opened his bag, where he had put his precious paper and few objects he had collected on his path. In it, the crown was shining with all the silver thread surrounding translucent gemstones. It was evident to Valjean he should certainly not be found with this in his bag.

But what to do? Should he chose to surrender the stolen objects and take the risk of going back to jail, for who knows many years, when he had already spend half his life there? And suffer the wrath of the two thieves, when they would certainly find him? Or he could go back on the road, with the badge of shame his paper made him wore everyday, but that allowed him to live. Valjean chose the latter. Enough with the life behind bars.

He stood up, prepared himself a small meal with berries, and ate them with rainwater kept in its leather skin. But, as the sun started to rise, he heard hooves and yells from the road next to the forest. That was no good omen for him. So, he took his walking staff, and walked out of the forest. From there, he saw on the road a group of armed soldiers. On their chest-plates, each of them wore the Sun emblem of the capital. They were royal guards. And Valjean had a stolen crown in his bag. Never had he ever imagine he would come to be a mule, but so he was, unwillingly.

With the soldiers was a white horse. Riding the horse was the officer, a captain from what the stripes on his shoulders let him know. Nineteen years with soldiers had been enough time for Valjean to learn the ranks. The captain put his feet down, and walked alongside his ride. He inspected the area, but the horse seemed to have his attention taken by something else. The horse was watching Valjean, and Valjean knew it right then.

He ran. He didn’t know where he found the strength to run that fast, yet he ran through the forest. And the horse was right behind him.


	4. In which Valjean finds himself a nemesis

Valjean ran for what seemed hours, even though he knew they were just minutes. Life in jail hadn’t exactly let him keep a lot of muscles to run and sport was far from his favorite pastime, moreover because he had chains at his feet. But he kept running nonetheless, like his life depending on it, and it was. He crossed a lot of the forest, jumped over a little river, tried to take a detour to distance the horse. But his four-legged pursuer seemed to have inherited more from hunting hound than horse, as Valjean always kept hearing the hooves running behind him.

At last, an opening appeared and Valjean stepped in it. It was a big rock with a hole in it, one could even say it was a cave, a bag-end, yet he took the path, whatever it would take him. Even if it was a bag-end, he could lose the horse in the shallowness of the sculpted hole in the rock. Branches, vines and ivy were growing on the rock, and hid the opening, and Valjean hoped they could hide his path too.

He crossed the narrow passage, and arrived on the other side. There, he took a minute to enjoy the magical view. It was a gigantic clearing, surrounded by old rocks, or what could perfectly be an old wall made of stones large as a standing man. The vegetation had recover the high minerals, and Valjean saw, running his eyes through the place, a cliff, divided by a raging waterfall. But, and it was an unexpected and yet welcomed sight, before the waterfall was a tower. It had one window up at the top, and it was open. Valjean walked around it, seemingly having forgotten about the horse after him, and looked for an easy way up. But there was no entrance at the base of the tower. The only opening was the window, at at least a good twenty meters from the base.

Reality came brutally to Valjean as he dreamed of the peace of the newfound place, when hooves knocked hardly on the rocks behind him. The white horse had found him. He moved back, ready for anything, but the stallion in front of him was judging him, circling him, ready for the best moment to strike, and bring Valjean to the soldiers.

Valjean kept moving, and at last, his back was on the cold and hard wall of the tower. He couldn’t escape. The horse approached again, so close that Valjean could read his name on the golden enameled plate on his white-furred chest. Under the golden Sun of the capital, it was written in golden letters. Javert.

Valjean tried to crawled his way out of Javert, walking around the tower, but the horse kept following him. Yet, he didn’t attack. And Valjean soon realized why, as cries emerged from the forest. The horse was waiting for the soldiers to come, and make a great arrest. But, innocent or not, Valjean dreaded the law they represented, as this law imprisoned him half his life. So, taking advantage of holes between the rocks that made the tower, he started climbing. He was sure he’d fell soon, if the stallion was to jump after him, and yet, when Javert rushed against the wall, Valjean was already enough meters high so he was safe. Yet, safety was still scarce and he kept on climbing, until he had to stop before his legs and arms withdrew and left him to fell to his doom on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tower... I wonder what's up there...


	5. In which Valjean thinks he is safe

Finally, Valjean managed to climb up to the window. The windowsill was a large one, and he took a moment to catch his breath. On the ground, Javert started to madden. His prey had escaped him, and so he left to come back to the soldiers in the forest. Surely, they would think the horse had just seen a squirrel and decided to chase it. In fact, Valjean feared the sight of the uniforms, but for as long as he waited on the windowsill, none came.

So, at last in a safe place, he turned around and put his foot on the floor, only for his foot to be welcomed by a buttered frying pan on the ground, that made him slide and lose his balance. And so he fell backward, and remembered none of what happened until he opened his eyes once more.

He woke up at the sound of a song, a calm and peaceful lullaby.

“There is a flower on a cloud,

Its power’s shining on my heart

And what was mine is mine again,

There with the flower on a cloud.

It will heal what has been hurt,

It will save what has been lost,

And bring back what once was mine,

What once was mine.”

Valjean opened his eyes, slowly. The back of his head was hurt, or has been, he wasn’t sure.

“What… What happened?” he asked the girl by his side.

Sure, it was she who had sung the lullaby. She was in her late teen, and was maybe eighteen or twenty years old, not older. She had long, oh so long blond hair, that kept the sun’s light strangely, and it appeared as if it was glowing.

“You hurt yourself, mister,” she said, offering her hand for him to stand up.

He took it, and massaged with his other hand the back of his head. It was wet and clean. But, when he turned around, he saw the windowsill, and the fresh blood on it.

“That’s… My blood?” he asked the girl, his hand still on his head.

She nodded silently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you. But, there were screams, and I was scared. Mother always tells me bad people will come for my hair.”

She stopped, realizing what she had just said. Valjean still seemed to not understand what was going on. He looked out the window, prudently, and saw Javert leaving the clearing, head proud but ears low.

The young woman stepped carefully away from Valjean, and throw to him a handful of hair, and the hair captured him as if it was a golden rope.

“What!?” he shouted, unsure whether he should try to get out or just let her do, as he was in her home.

“How did you come into this tower?” she asked him, while menacing him with the frying pan he had stepped on.

“I was trying to escape the horse… I swear, I didn’t know there was anyone in this tower. Please, miss, I don’t know who you are, you don’t know who I am, but maybe we could talk like grown-ups, and find a common ground. Why don’t you put the frying pan away? Please.”

“Are you here for my hair? No, I know, you want to kidnap me! To sell me! That’s it! I shouldn’t have healed you!”

“Listen, kid, I know nothing of this place, or what you’re talking about. Just, let go of me!”

As she had spoke, she had walked around the round space, and Valjean was more entangled than before in the long hair.

“If I let you go, will you leave this tower, and never come back?”

“I… If the road is safe, yes,” Valjean said, unsure.

He wanted to look out of the window to see if Javert was back with soldiers, but now he was on the other side of the room, about to fall on the stairs. And so, he did fall on the stairs, hoping that move would stop the young woman.

“Listen, I just need a place to sleep, and eat. If you don’t want me to reveal you are here, whoever you are, and whatever things you want to be kept hidden, I can stay here. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“I’m not sure… Mother always tells me to not trust strangers… But you’re the first stranger I’ve ever met! It’s so exciting! I want to know everything of the world outside! If you stay and I let you out of my hair, will you tell me of the world?”

“If such is the price to pay to have a safe place to stay, so be it. My name is Jean Valjean, kid. What’s yours?”

“Cosette,” she answered.

And so, Cosette untangled her long rope of hair, and freed Valjean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Healing lullaby, which will come back few times in the story, is a fusion of the "Healing Incantation" from Tangled and "Castle on a Cloud" from les Miz. The melody I imagine with it is the Castle on a Cloud melody. Btw, that's because of this song this story is called "Flower on a Cloud".  
>   
> About the character of Cosette: inspired by Rapunzel, kind of obviously ^^ She's not as adventurous as Raps is, though. She has a more fearful personality (hence the buttered frying pan trap and not just knocking Valjean down), yet she's very trustful, like Raps.  
>   
> Stay tuned!


	6. In which Valjean and Cosette become family

Valjean stayed days in the tower. With Cosette’s help, he built himself a little nest up in the framework, with ropes, wood and solid fabric. Each time Mother came, he hid there, and Cosette was careful to let some of her things fall out of the nest-like place, as if it was her own new secret place.

She and Valjean talked a lot when Mother wasn’t there. And he learned that the young woman only knew the tower as home, and had never left. Over the years, she had painted the walls, the roof, even the floor at some places.

And he recounted of the places he had been, trying to hide his tragic past. Yet one day, Cosette found his paper, the paper that, if not shown to a city hall, could bring him back behind bars. And he told her. Like her, he was a prisoner. The difference was that he had known another life, and she hadn’t.

He tried to tell her of the wonder of the world, even though his mind ever so often reminded him of the hurt said wonder had made him endure. But each and every time, she said Mother had warned her of the dangers out there. And he smiled to her, and to her captive innocence.

She had never been away from this room high in the tower, she had never seen the world from outside, and Valjean liked to remind both himself and Cosette of what was waiting, just meters away from them.

As she walked and danced, and tirelessly spoke all day, he knew she never had been taught the way of the cities and societies, how to behave with other people. He didn’t mind, truly. She was the first person in years to really look happy and free to do as she wanted whenever he was near. She wasn’t hiding a purse she didn’t even have by fear he would steal it, she wasn’t running away in fear of being harmed by an ex-convict, she was just being herself. And even though Valjean often sighed knowing she never had been out of the tower, he would gladly admit he was a bit jealous of that pure innocence she always had, that carefree aura surrounding her that seemed to infuse in the whole room. Valjean wouldn’t trade that chance of being accepted for anything in the whole world. Nineteen years of rejection sometimes told him to just enjoy the moment and think of nothing else than at least being with someone who truly accepted him.

One morning, Valjean took a book in the big library in the corner of the tower, and started reading, first silently, then out loud. And Cosette realized he didn’t know how to read. So she told him. If there was one thing her ever-absent Mother had done well, it was that her kid had received an education and knew both how to read and write, which surprised Valjean at each new word he managed to decipher all by himself. After a week, he did read the entirety of the book “The Adventures of Flynn Rider”. It was a kid book, and therefore, he liked it, for its innocence didn’t remind him of his past life and of the real world out of the tower. Truly, Valjean started to like it up there, just hiding from a strange Mother, and passing time with his new friend. They were two alone persons who weren’t alone anymore.

Then, Valjean, against himself, started to regret the world out there, the forest, the town, even the hateful glares of the villagers. He had known the diversity of the world, while Cosette never did. And, as hard as it was for him to realize that after all he had lived, he missed his old life. Sure, up there, he was safe, but when he talked with Cosette of what was outside, he found himself more and more daydreaming and wanting to go.

So, to help him see the world the way she saw it, Cosette showed him her new painting. She had hid it behind a curtain, so it would be a surprise. There, on the wall opposite to the window, she had painted them both, on a shore like those in her illustrated books, and in the sky were lanterns.

“The lanterns come every year on the same day. Mother told me it’s a special day, because it’s my birthday. They’re in a week,” she told Valjean.

He walked the few steps up to the painting, and looked intently at the precision of her art. Near the two persons representing them, she had wrote _Cosette_ , and _Father_.

“I’m not your father,” Valjean told her, surprised.

“You’re more of a father to me than Mother is a mother to me,” she said with a sad voice. “Sure, she raised me, but she’s never here. You, you’re here, and you care when I talk. Sometimes, when I show Mother what I did, I see nothing in her eyes. In yours, I see stars.”

At those words, Valjean felt salty tears run down his cheeks. He wiped them quickly, and watched the painting again.

“It’s beautiful, kid, beautiful,” he told her. “Do… Have you ever thought of leaving the tower to see those lights from up close?”

“I can’t. Mother won’t let me go. The world is dangerous. You said it yourself, Father.”

“True, one person against the world is dangerous,” he admitted. “But what of two, kid?”

“You want us to leave the tower? I thought you liked it here…”

“Well, I do, and I know things out there are sometimes far from dreamy. But, the more I think of it, the more I want to walk on fresh grass, to walk under a tree’s shadow, to swim with the current of a river. I haven’t done that in a lifetime, and I’m sure you haven’t either.”

“I… No, I don’t know how these things feel like… Is it great?”

“One feeling of freedom these walls can’t let you understand, kid. What do you say? Want to see the lights for your birthday?”

“The lights? I could? I mean, sure, that would be amazing, Father!”

Enjoyed by the idea, Cosette started to dance around the room, as she started talking about what she would dream to do while they would be away from the tower. Valjean watched her, so happy, relieved by a feeling of freedom he was sure she had never felt until now.

From this day forward, Cosette never hid the painting back behind its curtain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Tangled, the lanterns being called "stars" by Gothel is a way to maintain Rapunzel in the tower. Though, here, I didn't think it was relevant so I consider Raps/Cosette understood the lights are lanterns, either by herself or because, for a reason or another, Mother told her. Though I'm not sure Valjean could have known about them as I don't think that's the kind of news that enter jail.
> 
> How do you like the story so far? For this fandom, it's kinda the first real big story I've written, both in English and with plot that isn't just a succession of one-shots... So, I'm kinda anxious about your reactions... ^^'


	7. In which leaving is asked

Three days had passed since Valjean offered Cosette to leave the tower and see the lanterns for her birthday. The young woman had insisted she wanted Mother to accompany them, for she feared her reaction if Mother realized they were gone without warning. Moreover because she knew not of Valjean living in the tower yet. Though he respected that choice, Valjean wasn’t comfortable with the idea. Just from what he had seen of Mother, he didn’t trust her.

Yet, each time she came, never had she noticed anything out of the ordinary. Never had she noticed ropes of clothes or half-drawn papers hanging out of the nest up in the framework, and neither had she noticed the nest itself. It seemed each time she was at the tower, her only interest was for Cosette’s hair. In fact, Mother only came once a day, even less, only for Cosette to sing her healing lullaby, and it seems Cosette was fine with that. When she sang, Mother would see her gray hair be raven black again, and her wrinkles disappear, and her articulations be back as young as a those of a young maiden. The magic in Cosette’s hair was her own elixir of life. Who knows how old both really were? Cosette had told Valjean she was about to turn eighteen, but was it true? He kept those thoughts to himself, scribbling them on a piece of paper with the small writing knowledge he had gained these past weeks.

But today was different. Cosette had told him she would ask Mother to accompany them to the lanterns. She was sure Mother would accept. Was it naivety, optimism? Valjean couldn’t know, and he was ready for anything. From what he had seen, Mother hadn’t yet notice his presence in the tower. He had done what he could to stay hidden, uncertain of how this stranger would react to him, an ex-convict now certainly wanted for the things he was forced to have in his bag. When Cosette had ask her question, what would Mother do? Would she accept him? Attack him? Run to the police station? He quickly erased the last one from his mind, for he doubted someone with such a magical ageless face would fit for a long time in a town everybody else would get old.

And then, the dreaded moment came. Valjean was lost in his thoughts when he heard Cosette clear her throat to speak, Mother still busy to receive the healing magic of her hair.

“Mother,” the younger woman started. “The lanterns, they will be next week?”

“I think so, Flower,” the older woman answered.

“I was thinking, maybe, we could go see them from up close?”

“And leave this tower? Cosette, my dear Flower, Mother knows what’s best for you”, she said, hands combing Cosette’s long blond hair. “You’ll stay here, and everything will be right.”

“But, I long to see the lights, touch one, set one free…”

“Set one free? Oh, dear, what is that supposed to mean? You are free here. You don’t have to hide that magnificent hair of yours. It’s your treasure, and I’m making sure it stays safe.”

“Right, Mother. I understand,” said Cosette, face low.

“Oh, dear Flower, why the sad face? I knew I shouldn’t have brought you all those books. You have dreams now. They will kill you, dear. Trust me, they will. You won’t leave me for futile dreams, won’t you? You know I couldn’t survive without you.”

“I know, Mother, I know. But, my friend told me we could go to the lights.”

“Your friend?”

That revived Mother’s attention on the conversation. Up in his nest of blankets, Valjean listened carefully to what was about to happen.

“That lizard you found years ago? I thought it had disappeared last summer.”

“I… no, Pascal never came back, I know. It’s Jean.”

“Jean?” asked Mother, thinking it was another imaginary or animal friend.

“Yes, Jean Valjean.”

At the name, Mother stopped combing Cosette’s hair. In the forest and the streets, she had seen his wanted posters. How Cosette could know that name? She never had been outside her room, even less outside the tower. Did she leave? When? How? Mother would have to secure the doors and windows better the next time she leaves.

“And who is that Jean Valjean, my dear Flower?” she asked, an odd twang in her voice.

“A friend. He came in the tower about three weeks ago. He wants to come with me see the lanterns. Please, Mother, I really want to see those lanterns, at least once in my life.”

“And where is Jean Valjean now, girl?”

“I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the song "Mother knows best" from Tangled is used. Other songs will have more than just their title in the story ^^'
> 
> I chose to have Valjean meet Mother before leaving the tower as a nod to "the Bargain" scene in Les Miz, a contrario from Tangled where Eugene doesn't meet Gothel until the end.


	8. In which leaving is fatal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, blood, death

As Valjean spoke, he agilely went down to the floor.

“So, this is the dreaded Jean Valjean who ran away from the law?” asked Mother.

“I served my time, ma’am. I just had to find a safe place for a while.”

“The police is looking for you. And for what, mind you? That?” Mother asked, pointing at his bag.

She opened the leather bag, and poured its content on the floor, revealing what was hidden in it. Between the stolen objects the two thieves in the woods had put in Valjean’s bag, there was his precious paper. She read it. Still sitting on her chair, Cosette watched the crown roll to her bare feet. She took it. It somehow felt familiar, but from very far away. Before she could read the little inscriptions engraved on the interior of the silver thread, Mother sharply took it from her hands.

“Where did you get this? Oh, Flower dear, you see, this man lied to you. He only wants your treasure, your precious hair, to put it with his loot!”

“Lies! Cosette, your so-called mother is lying to you! I would never ever harm you. You… you were the first person in years to ever believe in me. I would never do such things to you!”

“I… Mother, I’m sorry, but Jean’s right. He showed me those before, said it was precious, and to be returned to its rightful owner. I believe him. And I believe in him too.”

“You do? Cosette, you’re such a little lamb, you believe, but is what you believe true? You know me, girl, I only want what’s best for you, for us.”

“You only want the magic in her hair,” said Valjean.

“How dare you!?” shouted Mother. “I’m offended. You, a convict, a criminal, you dare accuse me of such things? Oh, Cosette girl, listen to me, come with me, I’ll keep you safe, I’ll move us to another place, where this thief could never find us again.”

“I… Mother, please, I don’t want to go away, I just want to see the lanterns. I want us three to go see the lanterns. I want the people I call Mother and Father to come see the lanterns with me.”

“Father? Oh, Cosette, naive little lamb, you really think such a man could ever be a father to anyone? I am your Mother, come with me, you know I know best. Mother always knows best.”

“No,” firmly said Cosette. “No, Mother. I won’t go with you. Jean’s right. I realize that now. I only see you when you come for my hair. Each time I paint for you, or cook for you, you don’t care. I painted Jean’s and me watching the lanterns on the wall behind me, it was in plain sight for days! And you never saw it! You only care about my hair. Nothing more. That’s the truth, and I see it now.”

“Oh, my dear Flower, what nonsense has he told you? I care about you.”

Mother tried to reach Cosette, but the young woman stood up and walked to Valjean on the other side of the room.

“That’s it?” she said, turning her back to them, looking to the little kitchenette in an alcove of the wall. “You think I’m the bad guy here? You want me to be the bad guy? Well, I’ll be the bad guy.”

“It won’t take you long to forget her,” dared say Valjean.

Carefully, he gestured to Cosette to take her own bag she had prepared the night before. He prudently put his own things back in his leather bag, while keeping an eye on Mother, and waiting for her to move, to do anything, to speak again, but she did nothing.

She was waiting. Swiftly, she took out of her sleeve a sharp dagger. She kept it hidden, watching the shadows of Valjean and Cosette in front of her. Then she knew when to strike. Cosette had used her long rope of hair to get down the tower. There was only Valjean left.

Mother turned around in a second and threw herself to him, dagger ready to hit his back. And she stabbed him, again and again, until he didn’t move. He was on the windowsill, blood leaping out his body. And when Cosette felt a red drop of blood on her shoulder, she looked up, and saw him, the way she had first saw him when he had broken his skull on the same windowsill. Without remorse, Mother hurled the body out of the window.

“Cosette dear,” she called. “Come back to me, Cosette dear.”

But Cosette didn’t answer. Valjean’s broken and dislocated body had fallen near her. She guessed Mother couldn’t see her in the bushes, so she crawled to Valjean, and rolled him in her hair. He was heavy, but she knew she could do it. As she hurried them to the forest, she started to sing.

“There is a flower on a cloud,

Its power’s shining on my heart

And what was mine is mine again,

There with the flower on a cloud.”

With that, her hair glowed. That was what she wanted. She had to revive him, so they could leave quickly. She knew Mother had a secret stairs in the tower she kept always locked, it was the way she used when Cosette’s hair wasn’t long enough to help her up in the tower. And she was certain Mother was already in the secret passage, behind them.

“It will heal what has been hurt,

It will save what has been lost,

And bring back what once was mine,

What once was mine.”

She sang few times her healing lullaby with a teary voice, and finally, as she reached the ring of rocks of the clearing, Valjean breathed heavily and was back on his feet in the matter of few so long minutes.

“Kid, thank you. Promise me I won’t die too often,” he said with a true, yet forced smile. “Now, let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used:  
> \- Healing Incantation (Tangled) and Castle on a Cloud (Les Miz)  
> \- The Bargain/The Thenardier Waltz of Threachery (Les Miz) (1 line)  
> Kind of just a line, the "you want me to be the bad guy, well I'll be the bad guy" from Tangled.


	9. In which escaping is only the beginning

Neither Cosette or Valjean checked to see if Mother was pursuing them. Once Valjean was ready to run, they ran. They didn’t ran fast, because Cosette never had the chance to run before, for the tower wasn’t exactly designed for this kind of sport. Sure, she knew how to climb, to rappel down with a rope of her hair. But running, feeling her bare feet on the grass, the dirt, the bark of fallen trees, all of that was new to her. Nevertheless, they didn’t have time to enjoy the path.

Valjean, who had been in the woods before, took Cosette through a path in direction of the nearest town. But they couldn’t go there, Valjean knew that. He mostly wanted to get away from the tower as soon as possible. Behind him, Cosette stopped running, and he slowed down to walk at her pace.

When they reached a river’s side, they took a pause, and the time to think of what would come next. While they talked, Cosette tried to knot her long hair, so it could be easier to move than a meters-long mane. After some time, and some help from her father figure, she managed to put it in a large braid, that went now down her ankles. Still, she could now walk and run without getting her feet in her hair.

When they had their feet in the cold and clear water of the river, he asked her why she never had shoes, and if she needed some. She answered the more naturally that shoes were useless up there on the parquet of her room in the tower. But down here, she was still undecided. It didn’t hurt, even when she caught a splinter in her sole. It made her laugh, even, because it was the first time she had one in years, and it was all so new.

When came the time to eat, she asked if they would go to the town to get some meal, but Valjean reminded her they had not a lot of money, only what he had after getting out of jail, and that, as Mother had ever so gently reminded them, he was wanted. That was when she remembered, on the path they had taken, seeing on a tree a wanted poster. It was not far, she went to it and brought it back to their little camp by the river.

Valjean inspected the poster. It was him, that was for sure. Anyone could recognize him in a glance. The drawing made him justice, from his short shaved hair, reminder of his time as a convict, to his skin burnt here and there by the so long days under the sun, to his untamed beard as long as his head. Yet, he thought that maybe something could be done.

The water was cold. It didn’t matter. Valjean jumped in it, and immersed himself completely. There, he vigorously massaged his face to get the dirt off his skin. As minutes passed, he regretted to not have bathed earlier on his way out of jail. In his bag, there was a pocketknife he had found one day. He had kept it in a hem of the leather bag, for, as an ex-convict, he mustn’t be found with weapon of any kind. But today, he needed it. He faced his reflection on the water, and held his beard, and cut it. He didn’t want to risk cutting near the skin, but at least, it now looked more tamed. As for his head, he couldn’t shave more than it already was.

He faced Cosette, still on the river’s side, and asked her if he still looked like the drawing on the wanted poster. She said no. And he was grateful of that. So, now with his new face, he needed more than just that. He needed a new identity to go with that face.

“Flynn Rider,” instantly said Cosette, when he asked her about it.

“Flynn Rider?” repeated Valjean, unsure.

“Yes, like in the books. From now on, you’ll be Flynn Rider.”

“Right. Flynn Rider it is,” said Valjean, no, Flynn Rider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we'll meet again old acquaintances...


	10. In which a much needed break is taken

They had traveled two days in the forest. They had try to avoid the roads. But, now, they needed a rest, they needed better food than berries or half-burnt rabbit on a campfire. And after those two days, they saw an inn near the road.

During their journey, they had talked of how to behave with a crowd, both for Valjean – Flynn Rider – who had been away from society for nineteen years, and for Cosette, who knew even less of life outside of her tower. During the two days, Valjean had cut a bit more his beard into a way shorter full beard and had tried to even his uneven hair so it could hide the scars beneath.

As they walked as much as possible away from the roads, they had found in a ditch a long-lost chest, its wood half decomposed by the weather of the last months. It had probably fell from a carriage during one of the winter’s storms. In it were piles of clothes. Under already decaying packs of fabric, some clothing was still fine to be wore. For Cosette, whose dress was still mostly as bright and clean as the first day they left, they picked a back-up set of clothes and a single dark cloak to hide her unusual hair. But for Valjean, his clothes were still his convict ones. He took an off-white shirt with patches of dirt and sweat, a light blue leather waistcoat and a darker cloak, while the trousers were all in deep brown. Forgotten in a pocket, there was a handful of old coins, so old some were so rusty they could be confounded with wood. It even felt weird that no one before them had found the chest and its content, as if it was a trap. Yet nothing happened. And, as they were about to leave the chest hidden behind its bush, Valjean noticed a hat. It was a simple hat, a very cheap top hat as the material made it clear. But it was enough to cover Valjean’s head and create more of his Flynn Rider identity. And though the book character with whom he shared a name tended to be more of an adventurous rebel, swash-buckling hero, Valjean preferred to stay in the shadows, if it meant staying alive.

And so, after two days on the road, with a new face and clothes, they reached the inn. The building was old, kind of noisy too with the drunken songs coming out of the windows. But still, it was there, and open. On its wooden shop sign was carved the place’s name. Amis de l’ABC.

As they entered, the songs didn’t stopped. Valjean didn’t really know why, but quite expected to be recognized and to hear only silence once they stepped in. So, the sound of continuing laughter and greasy songs reassured him. The people there were unusually young, the youngest must have been fifteen and the oldest thirty, maybe thirty-five. Valjean would have thought they would find people his age, yet most of them could perfectly still be students in town.

They went to sit at a table aside, near the back wall that was in fact a big stone where few shelves for decoration and glasses had been carved. The innkeeper went to them, and took their command, the day’s meal and whole pints of water. He came back several minutes after that, with the plates and glasses and a jug of water, and even a cider bottle, on the house.

When Valjean sniffed it, it smelled wrong, so he put the bottle down on the floor and looked around. Near the counter, he saw them. The thieves that had put part of their loot in his bag for them to take back afterward. In a whisper, he told Cosette they would have to leave soon. Both their plates smelled normally, so Valjean assumed the meal didn’t receive whatever put a strange scent in the cider. He was sure of it, the thieves had asked the innkeeper to put something in it. He said nothing more, and kept an eye on them. Yet they only waited patiently, drink in hand.

During their meal, they listened to discussions around. The sounds of revolt was present, more than what Valjean have heard when he was in towns a month ago. He tried to ask the innkeeper the reason of this rioting sentiment rising, and the man looked back at him with wide eyes. Then, at the counter, the innkeeper talked to the men drinking, and they laughed. Valjean felt a shiver in his spine. That greasy laughter was not a good omen. He felt someone approaching, and he kept his head low, hidden. Cosette mirrored him.

Someone put a heavy hand on his shoulder. Valjean had to look. It was the thief with the red sideburns.

“So, stranger, hey?” he said. “You don’t know what’s going on, hey? Well, easy. Someone stole the princess’ crown at the palace about a month ago. Like stealing the child at birth wasn’t enough,” he whispered, as for himself. “Now, the royal guards are everywhere. They open farms, houses, bedrooms even. So us, the people, we start to seriously dislike these intrusions. I wouldn’t want to be the one found with the crown, that I say, hey!”

Saying that, the thief glanced knowingly at Valjean’s bag laying on the floor against the wall.

As if it was destined to happen, the sound of hooves and clinking armors started to come from the road. Then, from the windows, Valjean saw the guards. The captain he had seen before finding the tower was leading them. And his ride was no other horse than Javert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I admit it, the lost chest in the forest was pretty much plot convenience ^^' That makes Valjean wear an attire similar to Eugene, with the addition of the long dark cloak and the top hat. Anyway, our characters needed a little wardrobe change before going into town... Stay tuned!


	11. In which escaping becomes Valjean and Cosette’s mantra

Valjean and Cosette were surrounded. In the inn were the two thieves that had stolen the crown, and outside were guards, with their captain and the exact horse that seemed to have swore his life on arresting Valjean.

They ate hastily their meal, and stood up. Everyone else had stood up too, and the singing had stopped. The inn was silent, except for the sounds of weapons starting to be drawn out of their sheaths. Outside, the captain of the guards watched through a window, and sent two of his men inside. With the others, he made sure no one escaped by the front door. And that was when Valjean realized the two thieves from earlier were gone. He looked around frenetically, and, behind the counter, saw the secret passage.

He took Cosette’s sleeve, and, without a word, pulled her near the counter with him. The innkeeper kept watch. They couldn’t go.

But a thrown tankard of mead through a window decided otherwise. The innkeeper left his place to keep his clients calm, and left the counter alone. Valjean took the chance to find the passage. Cosette found it before him, it was a trap leading to a tunnel outside. They went, avoiding thrown objects as they kept their heads low and closed the trap behind them.

And then, they ran. The tunnel was not a narrow one, it was used to store the barrels of mead, beer, cider and water. The path they took was surprisingly long. It was far from just a storage cave, it seems the tunnels expanded at each turn they took, as if they were even about to exit and arrive in the streets of the capital or somewhere under the bay that separated the capital from the mainland. From time to time, they seemed to hear distant discussions, and they worried they’d be back under the inn.

Finally, they reached a dead-end. The exit was a wooden trap like the one they took in the inn. Valjean looked around carefully as he opened the trap, but he saw nothing. They got out, and, after few minutes to understand where they were and in which way was the town, they decided to go in this direction. At least, Valjean thought, in town they could maybe hide more easily than in a forest. Actually, he had no idea. Town, forest, country, all of that suddenly seemed to him more unknown that it could ever be for Cosette.

The forest was thankfully calm. The only sounds were those of singing birds, and the clear rustle of wind in the tree’s leaves. They walked once again, their bags on their backs. Every now and then, Valjean asked to Cosette if she was fine, if all the escapes didn’t make her regret leaving her tower. To that, she answered that she had never felt as alive as today, finally out of the tower. She admitted that the outside world was impressive, but she was optimist, and found every occasion possible to see the bright side in what they saw, what they had crossed.

After few hours, the sun started to set at the horizon. They were nearly at the bay’s bank. There were few houses, and a little dock with a dozen boats to go to the capital, while the stone bridge that was the main way to join the island was hundreds of meters away, prolonging the main road. The people working there didn’t looked at them while they walked, they just kept to their work. On the island, the streets started to shine. The lanterns were about to be released to fly away.

As Cosette admired the colorful beach’s houses, Valjean was the first to see the lights on the other side of the bay. Calmly, he invited Cosette to rent a boat to join the island. He still had a handful of coins from his leaving of jail, with the others they had found in the old chest in the forest.

In the forest’s shadow, they didn’t see, while they left the shore, a person watching them leaving. Yet, she saw them. The young woman, not much older than Cosette, stood with her brown horse at her side. She didn’t recognize Valjean as he walked by, but something was off, she knew it. And even if that man and her daughter weren’t the fugitive and someone else, she decided to keep an eye on them.

When they were long gone by the sea, the rider went out of the woods, and the last rays of sun reflected of her leathery armor and the sword she kept on her back. The wind freshened up her short raven black hair. Soon, the sand under her horse’s hooves flew off as she accelerated up to a gallop to reach the main bridge. At the entrance of the bridge, she saw the group of guards coming from the forest.

“Hi, dad,” she called out for the captain. “How was your patrol?”

“Eponine, how many times do I have to tell you to stay in town?” the captain answered her, up from his trustworthy horse. “It’s no place for you out in these lands. Anything could happen.”

“I’m going back,” she flatly answered at her father’s reproval. “Race you to the palace, Javert!”


	12. In which stars are close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like an interlude, a transition between what happened before going in town and what will happen next... Would it be a spoiler to say it's the calm before the storm?

The sun had set. And the stars had risen. Though, they weren’t stars high in the sky, but stars made of lanterns. An hour after the sunset, the streets were as bright as they could ever be. And as one, the lanterns were released. A cloud of yellow paper cylinders rose in the sky.

From the little boat, midway from the capital on its island, Valjean and Cosette watched the spectacle with absolute wonder in their eyes. The wind brought a little flock of lanterns to them.

Suddenly, they were here, and suddenly, in town, a fanfare started. After all those years, watching from a window and behind bars, they both now realized how blind they’ve been of the world. Under the shining starlight, they blinked of amazement, and suddenly, the world seemed a very much different place. A place full of grace, full of light.

They saw the fog lift and uncover even more lanterns in the new sky. The night was clear, and bright, and the sight of the lanterns held great hopes for the days to come.

As they journeyed through the night, a lantern lost some height and was near the boat. Valjean maneuvered to come close to it, as Cosette extended her arm and gently, gave the lantern back to the sky. Now that they were seeing all of this, all they knew looked different.

Both had been living in a blur for years, never truly seeing the lives outside of their own prisons. Both had still shadows after them, and memories none would share, yet, here they were happy, trusting each other, and for the first time in years, it was crystal clear, they were where they were meant to be.

And now, suddenly, something new began.

Lanterns kept going up and down around them. They were far from the only persons to have taken a boat to watch the lanterns from up close, and the giggles and laughter from faraway barques resonated through the bay. The shadow of a three-mast passed, from which dozens of lanterns were released as well.

And then, they saw the capital’s docks nearby. Cosette, still amazed by the beauty of the lantern clouds in the sky, asked Valjean if they could stay there a little longer, and he smiled at her, telling her it was hers to decide. He let the anchor fall in the water to stop the boat.

And so, even after the lanterns were long gone with the wind, they were still on the little boat, cradled by the leaping waves. After a while, they slept, free of all worry each of them carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I combined two songs:  
> \- Suddenly, from les Miz  
> \- I see the light, from Tangled
> 
> (Spoiler: it is the calm before the storm... Stay tuned!)


	13. In which justice is close to trap our duo

At dawn, the sun woke them up. Cosette was the first to rise and shine at the sight of the island in broad daylight. Valjean brought the boat to the docks, and they walked a bit near the coast. Then, as noon approached, hunger started coming too. They walked in nearby streets, far from the best the capital had to offer, yet they walked there. Few people were running, with ragged clothes. Valjean saw a tavern sign, but when he tried to enter, the door closed. Cosette pushed his arm a bit and showed him the poster just near the door. It was one of his wanted posters. And it seemed even his new face couldn’t change the way people looked at him. He sighed, and they continued walking.

At last, they were at an intersection. In front of them was a large building, with few steps up to the door. Sat on the cold stone was a man, who, when he saw Valjean watching the building, stood up and walked toward them.

“Hi there, travelers!” the man said, helping his walk with a walking stick made with an old broken lance. “Come, don’t be scared. You look like you’d need a good meal.”

“We can go and see, Father,” said Cosette, as she saw Valjean’s unsure eyes.

“How much for your meal, sir?” asked Valjean to the man.

“Oh, traveler, why pay to live? Come, come, I have a table ready for travelers like you.”

“Like us?” repeated Valjean, ready for anything.

“Like people rejected,” explained the man, as he entered the building, followed by Valjean and Cosette.

They entered too, and saw the interior. It was big, really big. There were still bright colored vitrails on the walls. It was an ancient temple, one that had a long time ago lost its prime use. The man took them to a room at the end of the choir, where a table was set. Against the walls, a collection of lances and spears was kept. Some of them had the royal seal. Yet all were rusty, as if they had been left for newly forged lances for the army.

“I too was rejected,” their host explained. “I was imprisoned for petty thefts in my youth, nothing really big you see. When I was released I came here. I tend to the temple, and welcome people like you, sir,” he said, the extremity of his walking lance showing the tattooed number on Valjean’s wrist. “You’ll be welcomed here as long as you need. Call me Myriel.”

“Good to know, Myriel. And, what role to you have here?” asked Valjean, serving himself and Cosette some soup.

“Well, say I’m like an old bishop in his old temple, my friend. This is a home for old gods here. Whatever you worship, you’re welcomed here.”

“Yet, you know where I’m from.”

“There is always more in a man that what a man would admit. You still think yourself as a convict. I see you as a friend, a freedman. And you have your family to support you, as I see.”

“I’d go nowhere without my father,” simply said Cosette, eating the soup served in the bowl in front of her.

“You’re lucky to have each other,” said Myriel.

Then, a sound from the street stopped them. In a reflex, Valjean stood up, seconded by Cosette, and went hiding near the dirty old confessional. The front door opened, and entered a guard. He went directly to Myriel.

Valjean had his bag with him. And the burglar’s loot was still in it. From what he could see from the confessional, Valjean saw Myriel look to them, as if he was asking them to move. But the guard saw him, and ordered him to stop. Valjean only had the time to put the crown out of the bag and leave it in the confessional as he left the booth, Cosette beside him.

“Myriel! There has been sightings of a fugitive near your temple. What do you know?” the guard asked quite bluntly.

“My friend, I know only that I was once a fugitive, and that if you find this person you’re looking for, brought them here at once.”

“I don’t take orders from you. You,” he said to Valjean, “what’s in the bag?”

“Here, come my friend,” said Myriel to Valjean, leaning on his lance walking stick to come close to them.

The soldier took the bag, and saw only the chandeliers.

“What is this?” he asked, as bluntly as before.

“I…” started Valjean, unable to find the words.

“This is from the silverware of the temple,” explained Myriel. “See, my dear friend here was only bringing it back to its chest.”

“I don’t trust you,” said the guard.

“You should,” said Cosette, close to Valjean. “My father was indeed returning this silverware to the temple.”

“And now, this silverware is his,” completed bishop Myriel, closing the bag and bringing it back into Valjean’s hands. “Soldier, this man has spoken true,” he said to the guard. “I command you off your duty. You may now leave this temple.”

Reluctantly, the guard went away and left, grumbling and cursing. There was no need to bargain with Myriel. He knew it. When he was far enough, Myriel turned to Valjean and Cosette.

“And you, my friend, you must use this precious silver to become an honest man. I’m not saying you weren’t. You need to become a man even more honest than you already are.”

Saying so, he had used his half lance to touch Valjean’s shoulders, as if he was doing a pious sign of old.

At the end of the meal, Valjean went to the confessional and took the crown back. Myriel saw him.

“I won’t say a thing,” the self-proclaimed bishop said. “I trust you to do what’s best with that.”

“How can you even trust me?” asked Valjean.

“I know a lot. I know that people who were never trusted will never find peace and never live a happy day. So I choose to trust you. And though I don’t know why you have this crown, and though I know this is something I shouldn’t even know, I choose to trust you. Because you’re like me. You deserve a second chance. You’re better than what people could say of you. While it is always best to believe in oneself, a little help from others can be a great blessing. And I believe in you. Now, go on. Your daughter is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Myriel.”

And so Valjean lowered his head to thank the bishop, and he went to Cosette, who was already at the back door, that was leading them directly to better parts of the capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I used lines from the song "The Bishop | Valjean arrested, Valjean forgiven" from les Miz.  
> For Myriel, I also used a line from Uncle Iroh from ATLA (S2E15 The Tales of Ba Sing Se).
> 
> Get ready for a bit of history tomorrow... Stay tuned!


	14. In which laughter and history are much needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you like an History lesson?  
> Warning: narrative about sickness and death.

As they went on the afternoon away from the old temple, Valjean and Cosette saw from the streets the beauty they hadn’t noticed the day before.

The capital was built on a hill, its streets running from the docks on all shores to the castle on the heights. The main road came from the great stone bridge, that was guarded by the royal guards at each end. The castle was high, and its architecture made it clear it had been built both during and after the great times of war of the past centuries. Some wings were sturdy and heavy, with little windows and unpainted walls. Other wings were thinner, with wide windows and doors. On some high towers, high ivy had been left to grow, and cut to form the royal sigil, a seven-pointed sun. The flags up the highest towers flapped in the wind, and each and every person could see the royal armorial, the golden sun on a field of purple.

Valjean and Cosette stayed a while watching this part of the city from the outskirts. But at last, they walked in the streets with cobblestones and painted shops and more smiley faces. And Cosette could meet new people, see and discover professions she didn’t even suspect existed. At last she was free and could learn. She was at last free from pleasing her restraining Mother, and as long as she was happy with that, Valjean was happy too.

They walked a bit, before arriving in a fair. Stalls were everywhere. It reminded Valjean of the damned day he was first condemned. But that was in the past. He shoved the memory away, and tried to think only of the present. At a fountain, a group of kids were playing to drawn on the cobblestones with colorful chalks. Cosette joined them, while Valjean was looking around for things to eat.

Yet, he couldn’t search for long, as Cosette grabbed his sleeve and took him in the center of the plaza when a group of musicians began to play. They danced, and laughed, and danced again at the pleasing sound of violins, lutes and accordions. They were on the run, still, they needed that break. No one was after them right now, they could take some time, and enjoy the moment. As they danced, villagers joined them, and soon the whole plaza was dancing, and clapping, and singing.

They only stopped when Valjean, far from his youth, stopped, his heart running far too fast to be healthy. He sit on a bench nearby. A merchant, a baker, saw him, and thanked him for the happiness him and his daughter had brought to the neighborhood that day. For that, the baker thanked him with a bread, just out of the oven. Valjean couldn’t find the words. For years he had been behind bars for stealing a mouthful of bread to feed his famished family. Today, someone gave him willingly a whole bread he could have paid for, even with rusty coins. Villagers here weren’t as hostile as he thought the day before.

Then he looked around, to tell Cosette the good news. He couldn’t find her. He stood up, aware and ready for the thieves to have come back, to have attacked even, but he didn’t see them. Still, he saw, on the other side of the fountain, a giant mosaic on a wall. It was the royal family. The King, the Queen, and their newborn daughter in their arms. Cosette was watching attentively the details, the faces on the wall. Another woman, black haired and wearing a leathery armor, was close and showed her the different parts of the mosaic.

Valjean approached, calmly, and listened before even thinking of introducing himself. The black haired woman was telling the tragic story that went with the mosaic.

Eighteen years ago, the Queen was about to give birth to her child, but she became sick, so sick the royal physicians prepared the King for the worst to come. Then, against all odds, a brave farmer who had known of the Queen’s sickness went to the castle in a hurry, and with him he brought a plant. He was old man Thenardier, an eccentric living in the forest. And the plant was a flower, one, as he told the King, was magic and could heal everything.

The King had asked why the farmer had kept it hidden, and the man had answered that he was blackmailed to keep it secret, but that he would feel guilty to learn the Queen’s passing, knowing he had what could save her and that nothing in the world was more important to him.

The royal physicians prepared the flower, and its power healed the Queen, who gave birth to a wonderful baby girl with blond hair. She had her mother’s face and big emerald eyes, already looking at the wonders of the world.

But not even a week after her birth, the baby had been captured and never found yet. As for the farmer, when the King sent for him, thinking he had tricked him and stole his child, the guards only found his mutilated body in the castle’s entrance. It was clear whoever did that to that poor farmer had certainly captured the princess as well.

As for the royal couple, they never stopped searching, but they never found their child. And from these dark days, the kingdom started to fall, as everyone thought their leaders had left them in their slow agony. Even more now, with the recent stealing of the princess’s crown, the kingdom was on the brink of civil war, even when smiles, songs and gifts could hide the grave situation.

The armored teller ended by saying that was during these dark days after the princess’s birth that herself had come to the capital, as a child, and was adopted by the man who at the time wasn’t yet the captain of the guards.

Listening to the black haired woman, Cosette was captured by her story, and so was Valjean. When she had finished her tale, she thanked them for listening, and went away, without another word nor looking at them.

Valjean waited a minute for Cosette to watch the mosaic, and he asked her if she wanted to take a break. They would have to find an hotel for the night. She didn’t feel tired, yet her yawns told him otherwise. So, they walked a bit, before finding a place in the higher streets of the town. Up there, at midway from the castle, they could see the port, the bridge, and some terraced parks and gardens. They went in, and as they did so, they didn’t noticed the armored woman some houses behind them, watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No song used here, though you sure have recognized the dance scene from Tangled.


	15. In which a new friendship begins

As Valjean went to sleep a much needed sleep, Cosette asked him of she could go enjoy the fresh air in the hotel’s private square. He agreed, mostly because after what both of them had lived, he couldn’t bear to see anyone kept inside a place for so-called safety reasons.

And so, her cloak kept close to her, Cosette left him and went outside. The moon had risen and was shining on the bay’s water. She sat on a stone bench near the terrace’s parapet, the other side of which looked onto meters high wall and the streets below. The rose bushes near her rustled with the cold night wind, and when she looked at them, she saw a shadow. The shadow approached, and in the moonlight, Cosette recognized the armored woman from earlier that day. She proposed her to take a sit, and the woman accepted gladly. With the dim light coming from the nearby torch, she could see under Cosette’s cloak her bright blond hair, that were shadowing a little her green eyes.

“Thank you,” started Cosette, “for that story today. That was really nice of you.”

“I wish it’d be only a story,” told the black-haired woman, “but it’s history. And by the way, someone had to watch your back. It’s rather unusual to see strangers these days.”

“How did you know I wasn’t from around here?”

“Well, for starters, you marvel at every thing you see, you act like you clearly don’t know the customs, and, well, even if your whole dance brought smile to the neighborhood, everybody could tell you’re a stranger.”

“Oh…”

“Trust me, miss, the real world isn’t all fun and games. But, well, if you need a guide who knows the city, I’m here. And I gotta say, if you say yes, I’d have a good reason to spend some time about town. One of the downsides of my father being captain of the guards is that he’s kind of overprotective… I was lost when he adopted me, so I guess that doesn’t help this protectiveness. But well, you’re lucky that your father isn’t as much as mine”, she laughed lightly.

“Yeah… I guess so… Being kept somewhere you don’t want can be pretty bad,” said Cosette, looking sadly at her still bare feet.

“You’re okay?” asked the older woman.

“Yeah, I am. It’s just… Everything is so new, so far I’ve seen only great people, and everybody is telling me that the world is dangerous. Yet, it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Point taken. By the way, if you want me to tag along, I’m Eponine.”

“Cosette.”

“Cosette? I don’t know what to say. That’s the nickname of the missing princess.”

“Oh, that’s sad to hear, after what you told us.”

“Yeah. The royals weren’t exactly blessed. The Queen and King, it took them years before being able to conceive. They named their only child Euphrasie for the gaiety and joy she brought them. Everyone calls her Cosette. She went missing for eighteen years, never to be heard of again. And now, the kingdom is about to collapse because of that stolen crown a month ago.”

“Odd. I’m eighteen since yesterday.”

“You’re kidding right?” checked Eponine with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I wouldn’t. But, I guess it’s just a coincidence. I was raised by my mother. She’s not royalty.”

“Well, coincidence, why not. What’s sure is that you chose your time to come in town. If I were you and your father, I’d leave before things get ugly.”

“But, it’s nice here.”

“I’ve heard people talking about a revolt. It won’t be nice long, Cosette,” warned Eponine. “Take a single look in the streets and you’ll know it”.

“This is a dream, this can’t be. Everything is so nice, so great here.”

“It’s not a dream. Listen to my warnings. Ever since I laid eyes on you earlier, I felt like I needed to be looking after you. If you don’t mind, that is”, said Eponine with a side grin.

“I don’t mind, that’s okay,” said Cosette.

A distant sound from the street startled them. Eponine stood up suddenly, her hand behind her on the handle of her sword. Then, there were voices. She sighed and left her weapon alone on her back.

“It’s my father. I better go,” she told Cosette. “I’m taking you tomorrow on a tour?”

“If my father can come, I’d love too.”

“Right, he can come. See you here, tomorrow at noon.”

On that, Cosette came close to Eponine and hugged her, leaving the armored woman unsure whether she should return the favor or not.

“It’s nice to have a friend like you, Eponine.”

“Yeah, you’re a great friend too, Cosette. I really should get going.”

On these words, she left the embrace and ran to the door. Cosette followed her for few meters, so she could see and hear what had happened outside the hotel.

“Eponine!” shouted the captain of the guards, seeing his daughter coming out of the shadows. “Go to the castle right now! You’re not needed here.”

“What happened?” she asked, taking the reins of her horse.

“There had been another robbery a borough away. Don’t interfere! You got some nerve to show up at night in these parts of town. Take care, we’ve got a lot to say tomorrow. Now, go home!”

He didn’t let her answer, as he slapped her horse’s side to make her go.

“Guards, let’s investigate quickly. We don’t know what lurks in these shadows,” he said to his men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somes lines from "A Heart full of Love" and "The Attack of Rue Plumet" are used here. Both from Les Miz. There's also a line from "Next stop, anywhere", from Tangled.  
> I chose to give the captain some lines from Mr. Thenardier, not that he has the whole role, he's not that bad of a jerk, yet, as Eponine's father, I thought it would correspond to the character.
> 
> While writing this story, I rediscovered that Cosette is in fact a nickname, and that her real name was Euphrasie. At first I didn't think I'd use it but in the end, here it is!
> 
> I had a change of schedule IRL, so friday's chapter will be published later than usual. I'll see, depending of how easy or not I can connect, if I'll update friday evening or on saturday, Paris timezone.


	16. In which predictions are revealed to be true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revolution... is coming...

Valjean and Cosette woke up as the sun was high in the sky. The sounds of cries and broken wood thrown made their sleepy state leave them at once. Then, someone knocked violently at the door. Before Valjean could get up to open, the door exploded and the hotelier crossed the two beds room to get to the window and throw the door out.

“What’s happening?” asked Valjean. “Is there a revolt?”

“No sir, it’s a revolution. I’d bet my business on that. Now, leave the beds, get your things out of the chests and help me put the furnitures in the streets. The youths needs those to build their barricades.”

“Barricades?” repeated Valjean. “I don’t understand. How can it be?”

“Do I look like I know?” answered the hotelier. “I’m doing what I can to stay alive. Now, leave this room, and find a safe place. That’s all I can do for you. The night is on the house, you’ll need your money once all that is done.”

“Well, Cosette, you heard the man, take your things, we’re leaving,” said Valjean, himself filling up his own bag.

They left the hotel and were on the street. None could have recognized the street as the one they had walked in the day before. Piles of furniture laid on the pavement. Kids were running innocently, but adults shouted after them. There, a man was running after a group of three kids.

“Leave and never return, you little gavroches! Out of here!”

“It’s our patch, old timer!” shouted back the boy, the oldest of the three, yet still a young teen with a streak of blue in his hair and weird glasses.

“Follow us! Follow us!” repeated the two younger girls with red paints on their faces.

They soon were indeed followed by other street kids. They sang, and their song echoed in the streets down below, and the people answered them.

“There was a time the king was proud

Now he’s not more than an empty shell!

He tried to make the world his own,

He’s not better than his stolen crown!

Here on this land we fight for liberty,

Not to be enslaved by an undead!

Here’s for you miss a little of bread,

Don’t worry it had seen better days!”

The song was repeated and repeated by passerby and as they sang, the barricades grew even more with furnitures brought and thrown out of windows.

“Look out! Look out! The guards are coming!” yelled someone in a nearby street.

The news spread like wildfire. Soon, Valjean and Cosette had no chance to get out, and theirs things were taken to build the barricade. Only the precious crown, on which Valjean had attached his precious paper, had the time to be hidden under his cloak.

“The guards are coming!” shouted a young man. “We need a volunteer, someone who can find out their plans and when they will attack! We’ll need a report on the strength of our foe!”

That was when Cosette noticed her. Eponine left the shadows she was in and went in the light of the street.

“I can find out the truth. I know their ways, their secrets,” she told them.

“Now the people will fight!” shouted another one, up the growing barricade.

“We will do what is right!” assured another.

“We’ll fight to our lives if it means our freedom!” yelled a forth youth.

“Our path is dark, my friends,” reminded them the teen with the blue streak of hair, “but we see where it ends. It ends with the guard’s fall, and with that, the little people will ascend! Everybody, lose your doubts in yourself, and together, we’ll lose our chains!”

To that, they burst into a rallying battle cry.

Valjean tried to take Cosette near a small street between to buildings, but all she wanted to do was come back to her friend before she left, maybe to never return. But the young woman only received from her a faraway goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I used lines from "Building the Barricade", from Les Miz, and "Nothing Left to Lose", from Tangled. The kids' song is inspired by "Look Down (Reprise)" from les Miz. I didn't really thought thorougly of the rhythm there, but it should be similar to the original song.  
> Also, Eponine got Javert's role in this chapter and the next, as a horse would have been more difficult to place there ^^'
> 
> As I precised in yesterday's notes, tomorrow's chapter will be a bit delayed. As of now, I don't know if I'll be able to update on friday evening or on saturday, Paris timezone. We'll see ^^  
> Stay tuned!


	17. In which death is at every corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revolution is... here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: deaths, blood, violence, battle... Well, revolution...

Eponine was back hours later, during which Cosette never let herself calm down. She didn’t want to worry Valjean, so she hadn’t told him of their talk during the night. Yet, he knew something was off.

As the daughter of the captain of the guards came back, she explained the situation to the youths behind the barricade. As she spoke, one of the little gavroches went around, and sat on the barricade.

“I have counted each man, and seen their plans. I will tell what I can,” said Eponine.

“Liar!” shouted the kid, the little girl with wild black hair. “I know this woman my friend, she’s the captain’s daughter! Don’t believe what she says, none of it is true.”

“Bravo, little Kiera, you’re the top of the class,” congratulated her one of the girls from the group, the one with red hair and a wooden leaf pendant.

“So, what are we gonna do with her?” asked one of the older teens.

“Take her to the hotel in there,” said the boy with a streak of blue in his hair. He took a dagger from his pocket and turned around, until he faced Valjean. “You there, what’s your name?”

“Rider… Flynn Rider,” answered Valjean, uncertain and frankly afraid of what the man would ask of him.

“You seem like a man who has seen far enough of this madness, Flynn. If you’re here to help the people, end her. Let our cause be heard.”

“Kill me now or kill me later!” shouted Eponine. “I renounce your people’s court. A death like mine won’t change your fates!”

“Keep looking on her,” said firmly the boy to Valjean.

Behind them on the other side of the barricade, the guards were coming. A battalion stopped and shut the street, canons coming far behind them. The captain of the guard was leading them, yet, in the shadows and seeing only her back, he couldn’t notice her daughter with the rioters.

“You in the barricade, listen to this,” he shouted to get their attention. “You have no chance, no chance at all. Why throw your lives away?”

He ordered his men to wait, carbines loaded and ready. When nothing happened, he ordered a warning round. The students and youths went and took their own carbines to answer the same way.

Valjean hadn’t moved at all, Eponine by his sides and Cosette in the shadow of a dead-end nearby. A little rain started to fall as the bullets rose in the street. The three little gavroches from earlier were in front of the barricade, looking for ammunition. They were flying between the bullets, and the bullets were only hitting dead bodies. And the three little Gavroche kept taking the cartridge-boxes from the dead. Up on the barricade, the insurgents fired and fired until death at the guards. Eponine tried to look at them on the other side of the street. Canons were brought. And bullets still struck the youths.

Death was near. The first of the three little fairies to leave was the black-haired little girl. She had been a will-o-the-wisp child, unpredictable, yet, the marksmen from the guard saw only an enemy. As her red-haired sister-in-arms ran to her, forgetting her cartridge-boxes on the rainy pavements, a treacherous bullet found her head. It was the same soldier who had struck them both. The oldest of them three, the teen with a streak of blue hair, felt the fire inside him as bullets crossed the cartridge he had, and found his heart. And then, out of a sudden, three grand little souls had taken their flights.

The barricade didn’t have time to mourn their loss. As cries resonated, as vengeance filled their hearts, they fired more vehemently than before. No soldier shall stay alive to tell the tell of this fight.

It was then that Eponine, realizing Valjean was frozen by the battle ans indecision, decided to help rather than do nothing. She jumped in front of the barricade to take away the corpse of their friends and family, and at last, mud in her hair and face, all three were back behind the wall. Yet, none was back alive.

Cosette, from the corner, eyed at them. She knew all she would have to do was sing her song and bring them back, yet she kept herself silent. That was the danger everyone kept warning her about. She knew her gift was unique, she knew if she used it, the fight wouldn’t be the people against the guards anymore. She knew if she used her healing hair here on the street, the fight would be the one her Mother had warned her about. The fight of the world against her, for her gifts. And she knew she couldn’t be used again for that gift. So she did nothing, and waited, as guilt slowly filled her mind. If only she could save only one of them. Only one.

As Eponine went back with the last body in her arms, Cosette saw her, and she saw too the arm of the captain. He was far way, yet, she could clearly see who his pistol was aimed at. Cosette cried her heart out to warned her friend, but it was too late. Eponine was on the ground, a bullet struck in her side.

Suddenly, Cosette jumped into action, only for Valjean to regain his spirits and realize what his inability in battle had helped causing. He heard nothing, the sound of fire and screams and death was too prominent. He didn’t understand what Cosette was shouting at him, until he looked at what her finger was pointing, and he saw Eponine laying on the ground, mud and blood all over her body and face. She was his to kill, had said the now-dead boy. But not anymore. Now, she was his to save.

With Cosette’s help, he took Eponine on his back, and retreated into the dead-end. Yet, it only was a dead-end for one who didn’t know where to look. Near the muddy ground was the sewers gate. He took it away, and slid into it, inviting Cosette to follow him, as they took Eponine with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I used lines from "Javert’s Arrival" and "The Final Battle", both from Les Miz. I also used some expressions from the original novel, volume 5, book 1, chapter 15 "Gavroche Outside".  
> Gavroche's song is an important part of the scene, though I didn't think of any version I could use, so right now there aren't any song. In a way, it helps marking the deafening silence faced by Valjean during the battle and his incapacity to do anything. So, if I write the kids' final song one day, I might edit it on the chapter or keep it this way, we'll see.
> 
> How do you like the story so far?


	18. In which the escape way is trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: battle, near drowning

The sewers were sewers, smelly, stagnant and dark. Yet, walking in these paths with only the dim light falling from distant man-holes was what kept Cosette and Valjean alive. They didn’t have enough time to close the gate. A battalion could already be after them, and they wouldn’t know. The weight of Eponine’s body on Valjean’s back was holding them from going faster. Cosette had asked if she could revive her, but Valjean, for the first time since they left the tower, told her no. Giving someone back her life was one thing, but doing so in the sewers, with someone who could turn against them just because of Valjean’s name on a wanted poster was another.

And so at last, as they followed the flow of watery dirt and trash, the sewers opened on the sea. But its large gate was shadowed. And as the shadow moved, Valjean cursed the guards and the damn horse sent after him. Javert neighed, and hit the gates on its hinge. The heavy iron gate fall in the filthy sewers mud. Javert neighed again, and his hooves hit the stone wall around the door, as Valjean and Cosette went out with an unrecognizable Eponine. The muddy white horse was ready to strike. Yet, he waited. Striking right now, arresting the convict as it was his duty would take the drive away, this hunt that was more than just arresting a wanted man. He had hunted him enough, yet he waited.

He shouldn’t have waited. From the low streets behind them, two shadows lurked in their direction. Valjean immediately recognized their gait. The two thieves seemed to somehow have found them once again after their last encounter at the pub in the forest. As if Javert alone wasn’t enough.

So Valjean placed Eponine on the ground, taking a second to slide the crown and his paper from his cloak into Cosette’s hands, and told her to stay close to the wounded woman. Then, she knew she could sing.

The two thieves jumped on the beach behind Javert, but he was no horse to let them do as they wanted. With his rear legs, he shot the burglar with the eye-patch into the cold and hard sea, and the thief struggled to keep his head above the surface. His brother had other more pressing matter than saving him.

Behind them, under a tree, Cosette watched carefully, and sang, her voice cracking with hiccups, after all the stress they’ve all been through this very day, that wasn’t over yet.

“There is a flower on a cloud”, she began, “its power’s shining on my heart”. She glanced at Valjean fighting the burglars and then back at Eponine. “And what was mine is mine again, there with the flower on a cloud.” She prayed to herself it would work. She had never sung in such dire conditions. “It will heal what has been hurt, it will save what has been lost, and bring back what once was mine, what once was mine.” She was sure of it, she’d never let those she care about fall to their deaths again. In the matter of a single month, she had resuscitated three times two person she had come to dearly care about, even more than her own mother she had known for her entire life.

She sang once, twice, thrice, she couldn’t tell. And at last, at last she felt under her hand Eponine’s breathing coming back to her chest. The slightly older woman coughed few times before opening her eyes. What she saw was surreal. It was Cosette, she was sure of it, she had even dreamed of her last night after their talk. Yet never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined that wide blond glowing hair surrounding her green-eyed face, hair that she could swear was levitating here and there.

“Don’t freak out,” said Cosette with an unsure grin. “You’re fine now. You were… Wounded at the barricade.”

“I remember… It was… my father, right? He was the one who shot me?”

Eponine brought a hand to her side, where the bullet had struck her. It still ached, like a phantom pain, yet she had no wound anymore.

“I… How do you remember?” asked Cosette.

“I don’t know. We have to get out of here. He’ll send a search party for me as soon as he’s out of the riot.”

She stopped, her eyes finding the fight nearby. She recognized Javert. She could recognize this fighting horse anywhere.

“What’s going on here?”

“The horse found my father. They had, well, an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“And the two others?”

“Bad guys,” said Cosette.

On that, Eponine was back on her feet. She drew her sword from her back. She looked at Cosette, with a smile, and brought one hand to Cosette’s cheek.

“Thank you, for bringing me back. Somehow. We’ll talk about it later. Stay safe.”

“Thank… you,” repeated Cosette, as Eponine was already running into the brawl.

As she ran forward into the fight, the thief with the red sideburns was still up. With his weapons in hands, he had managed to push Javert enough to back down, and the horse’s hooves had slipped on the muddy ground, leading him in the cold and dark water. Valjean was still on the coast, and struggled to stay up. When he saw Eponine coming, he left the fight, and jumped into the water to help Javert.

He wasn’t abandoning her. He simply guessed how well she could fight. He trusted her to defeat the thief. And so he swam to Javert. He had to aid the one who, even being his enemy, would never deserve such an end. The white stallion, his muddy fur cleaned by the water, refused his help, and tried to hit him with his hooves. But the eye-patched rogue was still afloat. He grabbed Javert’s tail to get him in the water, to drown him. Valjean couldn’t let him. He hit the thief, and hit him again, but the water and the night made it difficult to see who or what he was hitting.

On the coast, Cosette watched them all. She didn’t want to stay here on the side, doing nothing. She made a rope of her hair, and throw it to the thief battling Eponine. As she lassoed him, the armored woman defeated him with a punch of her sword’s hilt in the guts, and he fell in the dirt. As pain had him unable to fight back, both ladies thrown him in the water and he fell once more.

And so, the two burglars left to drift away in the bay, the fight, at last, seemed over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we meet again the "Flower on a Cloud" incantation, fusion of the "Healing Incantation" and "Castle on a Cloud" from Tangled and Les Miz respectively.


	19. In which defeat is bitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like chapter 12, this chapter kinda acts as a sort of interlude between the part that just ended and the next, hence there is not a lot of action there.

None could help the proud horse to get back on the coast, for he only neighed to be left alone. No, he could never be helped by a convict, that was impossible, even more by a man such as Valjean. Finally, alone, he managed to get up on the shore. But he was limping. Valjean tried to go to him, to tend to his wounds, and Cosette as well when she saw him. Yet, Javert still refused. He walked away. Even Eponine, whom Javert had recognized as the rebel from the barricade and not anymore as the captain’s daughter, was denied her help. And he walked away, limping, alone with his broken pride.

Now, each of them three on the shore took some time to catch their breath. And, as Valjean tried to dry his wet clothes and get the water out of his boots, Eponine saw him clearly, and recognized him. And neither him nor Cosette could prevent her.

“I know who you are, Valjean,” she said with an accusing tone. “Javert has a whole lot of your wanted posters… You’re the one who stole the Princess’s crown. He scented it. Thief!”

Valjean kept his head low, whispering a weak “I’m Flynn Rider, Valjean’s dead”, but all he could do was look in his cloak where Cosette had replaced the crown while it was drying of the shore.

“I… didn’t stole the princess’s crown. Here it is. Unscratched. Take it. Those men who attacked us while you were out, they used me. I have nothing to do with this. I served my time. I’m free. Take the crown. If you don’t need me, I’ll be on my way.”

“No, Father, wait…” begged Cosette. “You’ll be alone. Like I was, before you found me in my tower. Like you were. You can’t leave me. We’ll be alone.”

“Kid, I wish I could stay, but, you’ll be better off without me. Trust me. I’ve done my time. And now, you’ve got Eponine. I know you can watch each other’s back. You already have. I’ll… May go back to the tower. It was the only place I think I could ever call home.”

“Then, I’ll come with you, Father,” decided Cosette.

“Kid, you were eighteen when you started calling me that. You don’t know who I am. I’m no father to you. I don’t know if I can be a father to anyone. You don’t know me, there are things, I wish I hadn’t done. I tried to be your father, but I didn’t make any promise.”

“What tower are you talking about?” asked Eponine, both curious and determined.

“A tower, in the forest,” explained Cosette. “Until about a month ago, it was the only place I have ever known.”

“Cosette was taken as a babe by a vile woman for her gift.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” reminded him Cosette.

“It’s the only reasonable explanation,” said Valjean.

“Show it to me,” ordered Eponine.

“What good would that do? It’s dead there. There are only bad memories,” said Valjean.

“Show me, Valjean. If what I think is true, higher people than me will want to talk you you. Plus, you said you were about to live there either way. We have the right to know where you want to live,” argued the captain’s daughter.

“If it’s to put me in jail again, I won’t show you anything.”

“I promise I’ll let you alone if you show me, Valjean,” proposed Eponine with her right hand extended toward him. “Deal?”

Valjean took few seconds to think about it. Should he refuse and maybe spend the rest of his live behind bars once again? Or take this volatile opportunity to redeem himself by simply showing this odd tower to Cosette’s new friend? After all, the choice was easy.

“Fine,” he said quite reluctantly, reaching for her hand and solemnly shaking it. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter on, there'll be a lot more canon divergence than before, from both fandoms. Well... I won't get too much into the details, you'll read all that in time ^^


	20. In which doubts could be fatal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: suicidal thoughts

They took the bridge, and they ran, when they saw Javert on the stone parapet, slipping on the rain that was falling for hours. From time to time, he neighed softly, as if he was singing to himself.

No, to him, that couldn’t be true. Valjean couldn’t just have given him his life back. Valjean was a criminal, a gallows bird, nothing more. Yet, he had gave Javert back his life, he had chose to let him go free. But Javert knew vengeance, and that vengeance was all Valjean knew. Let Javert be damned to live in the debt of a thief! He was the Law, the Kingdom’s Law, and Law was not to be mocked. By none. Nothing, Javert reminded himself, there was nothing on Earth that they shared. Then, why did he have doubts? After all those years serving the law, his world, the world he had promise to protect, was lost in dark shadows. Now, there was nowhere Javert could go. He could never see his face again without thinking of this failure.

He put his four hooves on the slippy parapet, and watched the high stars. And as he was ready to let go, to fall with the rain, a call stopped him. It was Eponine, the captain’s daughter. Javert couldn’t trust her anymore, yet, he stopped, and waited for her to come close.

“Javert,” she said, out of her breath, “we need you. We have to go in the forest before dawn. Or my father will send the army after me.”

Javert answered by turning his head away. Help her? Who had sided with the rioters? Who helped kill her own family’s allies? Who had betrayed the Crown doing so? Never.

“Javert, remember all those days of racing in the forest, remember all this time we had together. Let’s forget today. I know it won’t be easy. But we need you, Javert. Your kingdom needs you. The princess needs you. If you fall this far, all you stand for will collapse with you. You can’t let yourself fall because of a bad day.”

Javert neighed sadly. It was not a bad day like every other. Today, his world had sank, and he was ready to sink with it. A criminal had let him live!

“Javert,” said Valjean. “I know we didn’t start as friends. I know you have every reason to hate me. But we need you. Sincerely. I guess you won’t want me riding you. It’s okay, I don’t mind, I can walk. I have walked my whole life. Just come with us. We need you, Javert.”

The horse seemed to be pensive. He put back his four hooves on the bridge’s road, and circled them. And they saw that, earlier, he had faked his wounded leg. Only his pride had been hurt, not his limbs. Eponine put a hand on his crest, and he closed his eyes, letting her mount on his bare back. Then she invited Cosette to mount too, and she did so, holding Eponine from behind. Valjean, true to his word, walked beside them.

They walked till the forest, and then, they stopped. Which way was the way to the tower? Valjean told Javert it was the tower where he had lost him. At that memory, Javert humphed, and resumed his walk. He knew his way through these woods. Yet, he had never been to that odd clearing before crossing Valjean’s path a month ago. Where could it be? And Cosette remembered all the time that had passed between the moment they leaved till the moment they had come to the capital. It had been a matter of few days, not few hours.

They paused few times to check where they were going. The sun started to rise behind the branches and leaves. Cosette decided to walk on the ground still barefoot, soon joined by Eponine, as Valjean was helped on Javert’s back, weak and tired by the last days. What his life could have been, he had never thought about it in his youth, yet now he knew his life was with the people he cared about and who cared about him. And he knew too he had already lived a great life filled with happiness and sadness, and now, he knew what had caused both. Sadness had came from an error in his youth that stole away the life he could have lived. Happiness was to be with Cosette and Eponine, even Javert, who somehow seemed to appreciate his company better than before.

That day, they arrived on the road with the Amis de l’ABC pub. They didn’t stop, it would have been an unnecessary pause. Further ahead, there was the running river where Valjean had become Flynn Rider.

Then night fell, and they hadn’t found the clearing yet. They wondered if they could have taken a wrong turn. But Cosette remembered the night sky from all her years in the tower, and with the stars above, she assured them they were on the right path.

At dawn, they continued. And at last, both Valjean and Javert recognized the big stone wall covered with ivy. They walked around it, looking for the entrance. And when they found it, they all looked at each other, and waited. It was now or never, they had to stick together, and face whatever waited for them on the other side. Somehow, they’ve managed to make it this far, it was no time to held back and be separated.

Ahead of them was the place they dreaded to go, for none really knew what was left of it, if Mother would be waiting for them, and what for? Javert was the first to cross the stony wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I used "Javert's Suicide" from Les Miz, and and short line from "With you by my side", from Tangled.


	21. In which the past changes the present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: major(?) character death

When Javert had crossed the wall, he looked around, and saw nothing, if not for the high tower that hadn’t change since the last time he was there. He neighed once, and the three humans with him arrived from behind.

Cosette and Valjean watched the place, a shiver in their back as they remembered their deadly escape. Eponine’s eyes went to the waterfalls far behind to the cliffs around before setting on the tower. They had talked a little during their journey of what had happened there. They didn’t told her every details of their escape, yet she felt sorry to see at last that place that held so much difficult memories for both her friends.

As one, they walked forward, till the base of the tower.

“Think you can help us up?” asked Valjean to Cosette, showing the still open window.

“I can try. But I know Mother has another way up,” she said. “It must be on the other side of the tower.”

She walked around the tower, and they followed her. Yet, they saw nothing. Until Javert felt a small rush of wind between two stones. He pushed them with a hoof, and the rocks fell on the ground, opening a hidden door, and behind it, a hidden staircase. Javert had to stay on the ground, as all climbed the narrow stairs. Eponine, her sword ready, went first, then came Cosette and Valjean.

A faraway groan stopped them right where they stood, at midway up in the tower. Eponine made a sign for them all to stay silent, as she resumed the climbing. There was another groan, that even seemed to have words, but words lost in what seemed to be agony. After few steps, the voice made itself clearer.

“Cosette? Is that you? Cosette dear, my little Flower, come to Mommy…”

“It’s her,” whispered Cosette to Eponine, still ahead of the trio.

They arrived at the floor and, carefully, they walked toward the cracked voice. There she was. Mother. She was laying on the floor, her hair of an immaculate white and her wrinkles monstrously old it seemed her bones would pierce through her thin pale skin at every movement. One could even say she was a living mummy. As she saw the three people come out of the stairs, she crawled on her oh so old legs and arms.

“Cosette, my dear little Flower, come to Mommy,” she said again.

Cosette couldn’t bear the sight of the only person she’d known her entire life to be disgraced this way. She walked to her, and helped her to sit on a nearby armchair. Eponine, sword still ready, observed the scene, as Valjean was holding his breath.

“Cosette,” she half ordered, “sing for Mommy, sing. Hurry dear, another day and I’m dying…”

“Don’t, Cosette,” stopped her Eponine.

Mother turned her head to watch the newcomers, and even if she recognized Valjean, it was not he who had her intrigued.

“Oh, and why is that?” asked Mother. “Wait a minute,” she looked into Eponine’s wary eyes, and gasped. “Could it be? Oh, Mommy’s little Eponine’s back home? But that can’t be… How old were you, my little one? Five? Four?”

“What?!”

Eponine and Valjean’s surprise didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh, dear child, why do you sound so alarmed?” said Mother with a sing-song voice. “Come with Mommy, Eponine. Don’t you remember how much your Mother loves you? Sweet child, how awful was life without you shining with me…”

“Off with this nonsense!” shouted Eponine. “I never had a mother. You imprisoned Cosette eighteen years! How dare you assume you’re my mother!?”

“Because I am, child,” Mother continued with her same sing-song voice. “Mother knows best, Mother will protect you. There was darkness coming, and I would sing you lullabies and wake you up in the morning… Don’t you remember this little song I sang to you before bed?”

“I only remember what my dad told me. I only remember that he found me alone in the woods, at night in winter, with not even a wool coat with me, and I was calling for a mother who never came. I only remember hatred toward the woman that gave me birth only to abandon me afterward.”

“Oh, but dear, I didn’t abandoned you. I only went to get what would give us eternal life. The magic your father thought well to steal from us. And what for? Saving the Queen’s life? Oh, what a fool, what a fool! Look now, Eponine, look at the youth, the richness you can have now. Their little Euphrasie is now ours, and the joy she was meant to give them is ours too.”

“Euphrasie?” asked Valjean from away in the room.

“Oh, you the criminal, the thief, no one is asking you,” said Mother with a harsh tone. “Euphrasie was theirs. Cosette is mine,” she explained back in her sing-song voice. “And at dusk, this blessed night, come my child, come Eponine, I’ll tell you, so you know what you’ve missed. What it was, clear as light, your good Mother in the dim of the night. And this babe, in her arms, some child who’d give us eternal life. The flower and its magic belongs to me, to us, Eponine. To us.”

Saying so, Mother was combing Cosette’s hair, who had thoughtlessly fallen back to her old habits and was humming the Flower on a Cloud incantation. And doing so, minutes after minutes, Mother saw in the mirror in front of her her hair getting back its raven-black color and her wrinkles disappearing. And with that transformation, both Valjean and Eponine saw the truth. Her hair, her face, her eyes, all in Eponine reflected Mother’s traits.

“Thank you, Flower,” she said after a while.

“Thank you, Cosette,” repeated Eponine, more firmly than their mother’s voice, bringing Cosette back to reality.

“What… What happened?” the younger woman asked, unaware.

“Thank you,” simply repeated Eponine.

“For what?” genuinely asked Valjean, who didn’t understand why giving Mother back her strength was great, after what he remembered she had done to him.

“I couldn’t bear to hurt a disabled old lady,” answered Eponine, drawing her sword back in its scabbard.

In the few meters that separated her from her mother, she ran. And then, out of a sudden, Eponine took Mother by the collar of her cape, and went to the window. She was holding her above the meters-high void.

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Mother, taunting. “I’m your Mother, child.”

“I never had a mother,” retorted Eponine, opening both her hands.

Eponine watched her fall. She watched as the cape took the wind and as the corpse dislocated itself in the bushes where, unknowingly to her, Valjean had already fell days ago. A sudden and surprised neigh from Javert confirmed the final fate of the ungrateful wicked Mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there were a lot of songs used... Here they are:  
> \- Healing Incantation (Tangled) / Castle on a Cloud (Les Miz) (only cited)  
> \- Mother Knows Best (Tangled)  
> \- Weeding Chorale (Les Miz)  
> \- Fantine’s death (Les Miz)
> 
> So, about "Gothel"'s role: I chose to give her both Thenardier and Fantine's roles... Yeah, they really are different ^^' Still, she's playing both the abusive parent and the dying mother sooooooo... (Plus I really didn't want to give queen Arianna Fantine's role...).  
> Also, she stayed at the tower. Frankly, I'll admit it, there wasn't a big reason behind this choice, it just came like this in my mind while I was writing the outline. In the story, it could be explained by Fantine's role, with Mother sick and old and so unable to move from the tower. Or, maybe, if we bring magic to the game, Cosette's escape lead to her magic escape the tower too, and Mother's aging came back? There could be countless explanations ^^'
> 
> Well... the story comes to an ending soon... How do you like it so far?


	22. In which the past should have stayed in the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fatal confrontation in the last chapter, the aftermath and its doubts, its grief, its uncertainty.

Eponine was the first to leave the room. She ran away in a hurry. Neither Valjean nor Cosette had the time to catch up with her as they went down the stairs. When they arrived near Javert, the horse hadn’t move a hoof and was waiting for them. Valjean waited for him to neigh something, but the horse simply showed him his back and the ex-convict mounted behind Cosette. Javert already had Eponine’s trail and followed her. She was already far away.

The armored lady was running, and running until her lungs couldn’t give her anymore air. She stopped near the river, and walked by its sides for a while, staying in the shadows of the trees. When she saw the setting sun, she paused, and thought.

She didn’t know what she was feeling, deep inside her. Was it grief? For who? That woman who had been her mother, but after all, nothing more than a stranger? That was an unspoken grief, and an indescribable pain was infusing in her chest. She kept her thoughts to herself, tried to banish them, yet they kept coming back. Why was she born, if her own mother didn’t want her? What could have been her part to play in her mother’s life? She sighed and hiccuped, again and again, forcing tears no one could even see to back up. All she could hear was the rustle of the wind in the centuries old trees and the gentle running of leaping water by her sides.

Was Javert, Valjean and, more importantly, Cosette, coming? Was her new friend coming? Eponine never thought she could one day call anyone a friend. She couldn’t show her any weakness that could let her be forgotten again… The same way her mother had forgotten about her and preferred another woman’s child.

 _May you forgive me_ , she thought. _I left, I left you all without a word. Dad, Cosette, even you Javert, and Valjean, whom I was ready to arrest, even you. I left you all. I left, I’m gone, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet you once more. Please, don’t ask me about the sacrifice I’m about to make. Even I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll just… shed no tears. They won’t bring me back my childhood. I guess… I waited to know who my birth family was, but I wasn’t ready. Would I have ever been ready to know? I should have kept on waiting_ _and ignoring_ _. I wouldn’t be grieving someone I should hate._ _I do hate_ _her_ _and despise_ _her_ _for all she_ _ha_ _s done to me, to Cosette,_ _even to_ _…_ _T_ _o my father,_ Eponine realized, thinking of the eccentric man who had brought the magical flower on the day the princess was born, and who had died for that fateful act. _Who cares how long I’ll be gone? I doubt anyone will ever notice. My own mother didn’t notice I was out of her life._ _I wasn’t a star to her eyes, not even an asset. I was…_ _in the way…_ _disposable._ _Days ago,_ _I tried to rise, to see a new world be_ _ing_ _forged. I can still hear the songs on the barricade, the song of bullets been shot at me. I should have died there._ _I should have taken the chance of never knowing what I know now. But life is unjust. As always. Life stings._

As she was lost in her thoughts with her heavy head in her hands, fallen on her knees on the ground, she didn’t hear Javert’s hooves lightly coming up to her. Cosette dismounted first, and Valjean seconded her. The younger woman unbraided her long hair, and sat near Eponine, in a way the other woman couldn’t see her behind her hands stuck to her teary cheeks. So Cosette waited patiently, bringing her long hair to them, and put it to surround Eponine, who didn’t seem to notice any of the silent movements near her.

Then, Cosette hummed, so her hair could glow lightly. She knew Eponine could hear her and see the light surrounding them. She knew the magic she had couldn’t heal hurt feelings, or lighten up her friend’s mood. She knew all that, yet she keep on humming her magical lullaby. She never sang. She waited.

Finally, Eponine unlocked her hands from her wet and salty cheeks and looked to her right to see Cosette. And she sang. She had tears in her broken voice, yet she sang. She missed few lines, yet she kept on singing, while Cosette kept on humming. _Yes, she is a real friend_ , thought Eponine. _She sees me, and accept_ _s_ _me_ _as I am_ _. She_ _let_ _s_ _me_ _be_ _the light as she is accompanying me._ _She’s letting me be_ _center-stage_ _tonight._

The lullaby couldn’t heal her childhood wounds, yet, its magic helped her, and it was magical to see them both, one humming, nearly inaudible, one singing, chanting in the night. When she decided to pause the song, Eponine stood up, and offered her hands to the still sat Cosette, hands that the blond woman accepted. Without a word, Eponine brought her close to her, and hugged her, of the hug she hadn’t returned that night in the garden.

“Thank you, Cosette,” she whispered in her ear. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever dream of.”

“And I can tell the same of you, Eponine,” she replied with a wide and thankful smile.

“But I ran off.”

“You had to. I guess it was the only reasonable thing to do after what we’ve discovered. You needed some time alone. I understand. But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got us. You’ve got me.”

“You’re not upset?” checked Eponine, still unsure, head low against Cosette’s shoulder.

“How could I be? The woman who imprisoned me abandoned her child. It’s her I should be upset at. Not at you. Never at you. Days after days we’re stronger, now that the worst is over. Your mother, the barricades, don’t think about it, Eponine. We’ve got the years ahead of us. I will never go away.”

“Yet you could, maybe you should. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“Don’t you remember that night in the hotel’s garden? You’re my friend. You’re the one who risked her life to stay close to someone you had barely met. You’re my true best friend. Even more to me than to anyone else. The words are old, but always true.”

“No fear, no regret, Cosette. Everything I said that day, I meant it. I saw you waiting and I knew. And none of this was a dream.”

“Let’s just go home,” said Cosette.

“Your home… your home is bad… Where do you want to go?”

“I’ll be home where your home is. I will never go away, and we will be together. Every day.”

Eponine broke the hug, and watched Cosette right into her eyes. She couldn’t seriously be thinking that? How could Eponine come back to her home at the castle with her father, after what she had done on the barricade? It was treason, she could never go back there in the near future.

“If what Mother, wait, not Mother, she wasn’t a mother to anyone,” Cosette corrected herself.

“Thenardier,” said Eponine.

“Who?”

“If my birth father is indeed the man who brought the healing flower to the Queen, then his name was Thenardier. That’s almost all we ever knew about him.”

“Right, Thenardier. So, if what Moth- no, Thenardier said to us is true, could it be that I’m the lost princess?”

Eponine sighed.

“I don’t know. I had my doubts too. But how could anyone know? She could have been delirious or clear-sighed. I don’t think anyone will ever know.”

“But what if it’s true? I have the nickname the people give to the princess. I have long magical hair that holds the same power that the flower that saved the Queen… I don’t see how I couldn’t be… the lost princess.”

“Then I hope you’re right. Or all four of us are damn good for jail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> \- "Waiting in the Wings" (Tangled) mixed with "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" (Les Miz)  
> \- "Healing Incantation" (Tangled) merged with "Castle on a Cloud" (Les Miz) (only cited)  
> \- "Every day | A Heart Full of Love" (reprise) (Les Miz)
> 
> In the next chapter, we have another confrontation waiting for us... Stay tuned!


	23. In which family reunites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: descriptions of the aftermath of the riot.
> 
> This chapter is the longest of the story, with a word count near 2k versus about 1k (or less) for every other. Enjoy!

The moon was still high when they arrived in town. The guard at the gates stopped them, before recognizing Javert, and letting them enter without anymore protocol. They walked in the streets, watching carefully where they put their feet. As she was still barefoot, Cosette mounted Javert as they went in direction of the castle.

The streets were dark, and held a strong smell of blood and death. Here and there, few barricades were burning, half destroyed. As for the rioters, the luckier had been thrown into the sea, dead or nearly dead, the others were still decaying on the pavements red of blood. There were groans of agony, that reminded them of Thenardier’s in the tower. So they closed their eyes, and tried to focus on the only goal they had. Reach the castle. But through were? Even with Javert, they couldn’t enter the main gates. Not with Valjean’s head on wanted posters. Not with the treason Eponine committed on the barricades. When they heard battalions securing the city, even the army horse went hiding in the shadows, between buildings.

Finally, in a borough near the docks, they arrived to a tunnel. It was an ancient passage, that had been built under the hill to restock from the sea the castle and the town in case of siege. It had never been of any use, thankfully, and its existence was kept secret in the army. Only the royals, the officers, and as for Eponine, their family too, knew of this tunnel. It had been built wide enough so a carriage full of supplies could enter, and was hidden behind a fake stone door, secured with real ivy and vines to mask it.

They went through it, and walked at the dim light of torches. Soon, they were in the castle’s caves. Those were dark, closed by several metal gates in case someone found the secret passage. The room they arrived next was the royal kitchen’s stock. There were barrels of wine and water, entire hams hanging from the roof’s girders, and tables full of vegetables. They hid from a whistling kitchen boy looking for a jar of cider, and who went out of the storeroom as soon as he got what he needed.

When they left the stock, Javert went first, his position in the army letting him the opportunity of wandering at his will. At each corner, at each corridor, he checked for the others if the way was free. As they walked through the wide corridors, and the high stairs, Cosette marveled at the sight of so much richness the castle offered to his inhabitants. And it reminded Eponine what she had told her that night in the garden, and at the memory, she smiled.

At last, Javert stopped them at a last corner. He walked forth, and neighed at the soldiers guarding the heavy door. The persuasive clinking sound of his hooves and his hard glance ordered them to move. The two guards seemed to hesitate a bit, yet, they moved when Javert’s hooves screeched on the floor’s marble stone. When the guards were gone, the trio approached. From the nearby window, wide as they were in a recent wing of the castle, they saw that the sun was rising.

Javert was the first to enter the room. He opened it with one hoof, took a look, and when he saw he could go in, he did so.

“Ah, Javert, my brave horse,” said a male voice from the room. “What do you want? Any news from the town?”

The trio still in the corridor heard Javert neigh once or twice, and clacking his hooves on the hard floor as he so seemed to like doing.

“Your majesty,” said another voice Eponine recognized as her father’s, “we have no news from the town. Or I believe that’s what Javert is trying to tell. Isn’t it true, soldier?”

Javert neighed once.

“And, soldier,” continued the captain of the guards, “may I know why you weren’t at your post since the riot? We searched the town and the shores for you, we found nothing. What is your excuse?”

“Captain, be less severe, if you please,” said a female voice. “He may be a horse, yet he needs some time by himself, like every good soldier.”

“Of course, your majesty. I apologize. Javert, what do you have to say in your defense?”

At that question from the captain, Javert neighed louder, and looked behind him, toward the door. Eponine, who was keeping a discreet eye through the not closed door, understood that as their signal. She opened the right leaf and entered, followed by Cosette and Valjean.

They all heard the gasps the royals nor the captain of the guards kept for themselves. Yet they kept coming.

“Eponine!” shouted the captain once they were close enough. “What is the meaning of this? Who are these people? And how dare you step in the throne room after what you did during the riot? That was treason! Your place was with the guards, not the people!”

“Funny you’re saying that, dad,” answered Eponine with a sour voice. “When I asked for years to be on the guards, you were always laughing at me.”

“It’s because you’re not old enough to be on the guard! Listen to me more often, you’ll know it.”

“And when would I ever be old enough!? Now, you listen to me now, father!”

“Please, we can certainly say what has to be said in a gentle way,” said the Queen, standing up. “Who are you?” she asked Cosette.

“I’m… I’m not sure anymore…” admitted the younger woman, curling a bit of her long blond hair in her fingers.

“You seem familiar,” said the Queen, walking toward her.

At these words, Eponine muttered something. None understood, but all heard it.

“You can speak up, Eponine,” said the Queen with her kind voice.

“Your majesty, if Cosette,” started Eponine, insisting on her friend’s name, “seems familiar to you, it’s maybe because she has great chances to be your long-lost daughter.”

The captain laughed. The Queen was taken aback. The King simply rose an eyebrow.

“What do you expect, Eponine? Really?” asked the captain. “The princess has been gone for years. You can’t just expect to disappear for days and then walk in here in front of her parents and say such things!”

“Captain, please,” ordered the King. “Ease up. Let’s listen to what they have to say.”

The captain humphed and grumbled, yet obeyed the royal decision.

“Speak, Eponine,” asked the King, hope in his voice.

“I met Cosette the day before the riot. I knew something was off. I took for mission to check on her as much as I could. This led me to discover she had been taken prisoner for eighteen years. She had been kept in a tower lost in the forest, not far from the frontier with the dark lands.”

“Cursed lands,” muttered the captain, which earned him a severe side-eye from the King.

“She had been kept there by a woman, who claimed to be the consort of the man who brought the flower to you, your majesty,” she explained to the Queen specifically. “The woman, who strangely looked a lot like me, claimed to be my birth mother.”

This got the captain’s attention. He no longer seemed mocker.

“In the little of time I had to know her, she was only cupid and egocentric. The woman is now dead…” she paused for an instant to take a breath, knowing what had happen. “We don’t have any way to really know is she was clear-sighed in what she said. But we do have proofs. Cosette has magical hair. And from what I’ve heard of the miracle that gave birth to your child, your majesty, her hair seems to hold the same power than the flower that saved you.”

“Is it true, child?” asked the Queen directly to Cosette.

“I… Yes… My mother, well, the woman I called mother, the woman who died, well, she made me learn a lullaby that made the magic in my hair heal her, rejuvenate her.”

“Child, I know you mean well, and I don’t want to remind you of the past you lived, but I have to ask you to sing this song, so I can be sure of what you claim,” said the Queen.

“Of course,” said Cosette.

She took several deep breaths, and hummed, before singing. And as she sang, everyone in the room made way for the royals to reach their daughter and the light that radiated from her.

And then, everyone knew. It was crystal clear, she was their long-lost daughter. No one else was. No one else could ever pretend to be. They embraced her as one, and all fell on their knees, gently enlightened by the peaceful light emanating from Cosette’s hair. They all were silent in the room, as the magic healed the wounds of the no longer broken family.

It was only after a while, who knows how long, that they reluctantly parted and stood up again. The Queen, seconded by her husband, came to Eponine, and thanked her, promising her a place where she belonged in the guard. The black-haired woman sighed, and asked if maybe, there was another role she could be useful at. She said so looking at Cosette, and the Queen noticed her hopeful glance. So, before Eponine could ask what she was thinking about, the Queen deemed her ready to serve as her daughter’s bodyguard, thus granting her more responsibilities than most of the guards. The Queen understood that only someone who was already close to her daughter and who her daughter trusted after being held captive would be the only and best solution. Furthermore, during these past days Eponine already had proven her worth for such an important role.

Then, the Queen turned to face Valjean, who kept his face low. She asked him to face her, and so he did, with fear in his eyes. She gasped as she recognized him, and the captain put a hand on his saber’s handle, only to be held back by the King himself. Seeing that Valjean couldn’t say anything to the royals, Cosette approached and explained.

He was the man who, if Javert hadn’t chased him in the forest, could never have found the tower and thus save Cosette. He was the reason she was out of her prison. When she said he had become like a father to her, the King held his breath a bit, and Valjean knew he couldn’t stay silent anymore.

“Cosette, kid, I tried to be a father to you. I can’t say I was a good father nor a bad father. But I was your father. Yet, you were never mine to keep. You are youthful. You are free, Cosette. And, I believe,” he said, searching in his cloak, “I believe this belongs to you, my daughter.”

In his calloused hands, he held the light princess’s crown. With the light coming from the high colored windows, he read aloud letter after letter the name engraved on the interior of the silver thread. It said _Euphrasie_.

“You can change the inscription, if you want, Cosette,” said the King, understanding why his daughter kept silent as Valjean was reading.

“I won’t change it. I will add both my names,” she replied.

And so, Valjean held his hands high, above Cosette’s head, and lowered them, as he gently crowned his daughter.

“Welcome back, princess,” said the King.

“Welcome home, daughter,” said Valjean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we find again the Flower on a Cloud incantation, though I didn't put the lyrics here. Also, in the end there are few lines from "Every day | A Heart Full of Love (reprise)", from Les Miz.
> 
> Happy ending! Or is it? Tomorrow, I'll come with the last chapter, which kind of stands for the epilogue.


	24. In which family reunites one last time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the final day of one of our main characters...

Cosette’s return was soon known in the whole kingdom, and beyond the frontiers. Her birth parents were always there for her, even if sometimes, they didn’t understand why after what she had lived through, she wanted to be left alone. During these times, she only accepted her surrogate father and her sword wearing friend Eponine presence, which both always accepted gladly.

As for what became of them, Valjean had been pardoned by the King and Queen for saving and bringing back their daughter and only heir. He had a room in the castle, and was always ready to learn new things, spending time in the library or with his daughter. From time to time, he liked to go in town see Myriel at the old temple, and sometimes, Cosette and Eponine joined him too. And the other ex-convict always welcomed them all with wide open arms.

Eponine was at her best in her new bodyguard job. She had a room a door apart from Cosette’s, as required by her new duty. Both women grew close to one another, and being together was way more of a delight for them both than a security obligation. They were not anymore in the dark of that night in the garden, as they were now in the bright of the days in the castle.

Their equine friend Javert had come to the end of his military life five years after bringing the princess back to her family and was now enjoying a well deserved retreat in a field near the castle’s gardens. From time to time, he still took them on a ride in the forest, where they took all precautions to not go near the macabre tower.

Sometimes, Eponine, Valjean and Cosette all went to enjoy time together on Cosette’s bedroom’s balcony, only to watch the sun set behind the horizon. Cosette had never realized during all the years in the tower, but the one window she had there only allowed her to see the sunrise, never the sunset. And so, she wanted to never miss one now that she could enjoy them with the two people she cared about and whom she knew genuinely cared about her.

And one day, as it had been years since Cosette was back in her birth family, they were as always sitting there. At the end of the evening, both Cosette and Eponine stood up, ready to go to their respective rooms. Yet, as they stood up, Valjean didn’t move.

“Dad,” said Cosette, moving gently his arm. “Dad, wake up, you’re oversleeping again.”

He didn’t move. Then, Cosette noticed in his hand, slipping from his sleeve, a fold piece of paper. When she tried to take it, Valjean’s breath came back to his chest as he woke up.

“Cosette, my child, you look tired. What happened?”

“Dad, you weren’t moving. I was scared you wouldn’t wake up this time.”

“I will, Cosette, I will wake up… In fact, I have something to give to you.”

And so, he took from his sleeve the piece of paper. Cosette sat near him on her chaise longue, and Eponine went to sit by her side, one arm around her shoulders, mindlessly fiddling with a bit of hair. Valjean yawned and coughed, and coughed again, so much his chest ached. The nineteen years in jail had never pardoned him.

Yet, this evening, it was worse than any evening before. A cold dread went through Cosette.

“Dad, don’t go away,” pleaded Cosette. “Not today, not ever. You’re going to live, Dad. Let me heal you, please, only this once.”

“No Cosette, I won’t let you heal me. If I let you save me at the end of my days, I’ll be no better than Thenardier. I won’t take advantage of your gift. Not again. Not anymore. You’ve already done a lot more for me than I could ever give you back. Keep your precious gift for those who deserve it.”

“You of all people deserve to heal, to live long, Dad. It’s too soon, too soon to say goodbye.”

“Cosette… Oh, Cosette, my child, you forbid me now to die. I will wait, I’ll obey… I will… try. On this page, I wrote what I could of my story”, he said, giving her the fold paper from his sleeve. “It’s the story of the years before I found you. Read it well, when one day, I’ll be sleeping. It’s the story of a man who was running and hating his fate his whole life, and yet, who learned to stop, and to love when he met you, when you came to his care.”

“Dad, no, you can’t go away… Not now… It’s too soon, too soon…”

“Cosette, Eponine, take care of each other,” whispered Valjean.

Those were his final words.

They sobbed. Valjean sobbed silently as he went away and as tears of having to leave his loved ones transcended death. Cosette cried for the man she would always call her father, even after his death, even knowing his real life, even knowing her own birth family. Eponine wept for her dearly beloved, a part of whom died that night with her father’s passing.

And on the morrow, the bells in the town, and the people in the streets mourned as well the man who all his life was like them all, and who had crossed his final river.

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this final chapter, lines from "Valjean's Death" (Les Miz) were used.
> 
> Well... That's it folks! After 23 chapters of story, and about 20k words of text (the longest I've wrote in English at the time I wrote it), this is the end...  
> Did you enjoy it? Was there a scene or song I didn't use you would have liked to see?  
> I'm open to all comments! I know this crossover/fusion was kind of a niche idea, and because of that, I'd like to know what you think of it.
> 
> Thanks to those who read, commented and kudo-ed, I hope I'll see you in future stories!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are welcome! 🤗  
> As English isn't my first language, please let me know if there are some grammatical errors.


End file.
